


Ficlet collection

by Yozora



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 21,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3427463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yozora/pseuds/Yozora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets of varying lengths based on one-word prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pain

**Author's Note:**

> To get me started on writing this pairing, I thought I'd participate in that "50 words, one sentence each" challenge that was once floating around in LJ-Land. So I asked my sister to choose a bunch of prompts for me. In the end, I ended up playing outside the rules of the challenge, because not only are there more than 50 prompts (not that I honestly mind! :D), but I apparently suck at limiting my narrative to just one sentence. So each of the prompts kind of turned into ficlets in their own right, some shorter, some longer. 
> 
> Well, I'm FINALLY calling it done and releasing it to the wild!  
> Because the thing is such a monster by now (the Word document is currently 22k+ words long :x), I've decided to break it into chapters. Makes more sense that way. 
> 
> They are in no way in chronological or any other sensible order, nor do they all even necessarily relate to each other. Some of them are not really even canon-complient, but ask me if I care. They're just random snippets written as the inspiration came to me. (Be warned, some of them are pret-tyyy ridiculously stupid.)
> 
> Again, am hoping my characterization isn't too far off. I tried to keep it believable, but the damn fluff just kept forcing its way in!
> 
> Okay, I'll stop blabbering now and just post this thing. Notes within each chapter as appropriate!  
> Rating applies to the work as a whole, individual chapters may obviously vary.

Jayden feels an excruciating, nauseating _snap_ somewhere in the middle of his torso, a little down and to the right, followed by a blinding stab of pain expanding and shooting outwards, racing up his arm and driving the air out of his lungs like a punch.

 _A rib_ , his mind supplies completely unhelpfully at him, but he has little to no time to pay attention to it, because Mad Jack is still holding that metal pole, is still swinging it at him with a frankly _ridiculous_ amount of strength, and he can either worry about the pain, and possible internal damage, or he can _try to survive_.

He opts for the latter, although it takes every ounce of his own strength and willpower not to double over the injury and cry out in pain every time he moves.

 

Finally, when Mad Jack is barely more than a bloody smear under the bulldozer, Jayden allows himself to slump to the ground with a yelp of agony as the movement jostles the broken bone – or, he supposes, at this point it could just as easily be _bones_ , plural, for all he knows. Distantly, he makes the completely inane observation that his suit is thoroughly ruined – _again_.

Gasping for breath as the adrenalin starts to fade from his system and is swiftly replaced by pain, he shifts enough to dig his phone out of his pocket. It’s muddy and battered like the rest of him, but thankfully seems to be otherwise unharmed. Gingerly, he brings up Blake’s contact info and hits ‘call’, feeling small and a little pathetic for it, but in his current condition he isn’t exactly spoiled for choice. All the same, the older cop’s rough voice is like music to his ears when he finally answers.

He doesn’t remember what words, exactly, he used to make Blake drop everything he was doing and arrive so quickly – he only remembers retching miserably at some point during the call, the smell and the pain and the taste of mud in the back of his throat that will probably take weeks to wash out suddenly just _a little too much_. Which, in retrospect, might’ve been one of the reasons contributing to Blake’s hasty arrival.

He decides it doesn’t really matter, because when Blake finally arrives and gathers him into his arms, a gruff litany of “it’s okay”s and “I’ve got you”s and “stay with me”s flowing smoothly over him, the pain is suddenly that much more bearable.

He doesn’t even mind the 30 times Blake calls him “a fucking idiot”, or some variation of it, during the ride to the hospital. Not that he’s counting.


	2. Rain

Even after all this time, Jayden is still unsure how to feel about rain. Especially when there’s lots of it.

After everything, it makes his skin go cold with icy pinpricks running down his spine, wedging there and making his whole body go numb. His hands shake, worse than during any withdrawal, as his brain screams a constant, high-pitched litany of _‘no no no no no’_ at him. On rainy nights, his dreams – _nightmares_ – are filled with bodies: sometimes the bodies of others, drowning and bloated; sometimes his own, beaten, battered and bleeding out in the mud, even as he tries _so hard_ to fight back.

And yet…

_And yet…_

He also remembers the first feel of hot hands against his rain-chilled skin, one on the back of his neck, the other finding its way under his dress shirt to press against his stomach, making it quiver. He remembers the first press of rough lips on his own, hard and demanding, the ticklish scrape of a goatee against his face, the heated, panting breaths and the almost-clashing of teeth as his back is pressed firmly, almost forcefully against the side of the car. And – he remembers the rain, pouring over both of them, drenching his hair and clothing, soaking him to the bone, rivulets of it mixing where their bodies and mouths meet. That memory, in turn, fills him with heat, the pinpricks along his spine made of fire rather than ice – and it makes it so, _so_ hard for him to hate the rain.


	3. Telephone

"Hey, so, by the way. What are you wearing?" Blake suddenly asks half-way into their actually professional conversation, voice dropping noticeably even over the less-than-stellar telephone line.

Jayden's answering chuckle is light and airy and slightly incredulous. "Really, Carter? _Phone sex?_ "

"Why the hell not?" Jayden can practically _hear_ the amused shrug. “Besides, can’t blame a guy, with the kind of sounds you make...”

Jayden’s stomach feels a little like it’s in free-fall at that, but he does his best not to let it show in his voice. "Oh, I don't know, because it's in the middle of the day and I'm at the office? As I assume are you?"

"Part of the thrill, ain't it?" Blake grins, voice a dark purr in Jayden's ear. "Besides, your fancy-ass office has a door, doesn't it? They do have those even in D.C., right?"

Jayden lets out a bark of laughter at that. "Touché", he concedes with a grin of his own, before leaning back in his office chair and closing his eyes, free hand coming up to lazily start undoing his own tie. "Alright, just this once, Carter."

"Mm, I seem to recall those words being used the last time we did this, too."

"Bite me."

The tone of Blake's voice over the line is downright predatory. "That a request, Norman?" he teases. "'Cause I'm pretty sure that can be arranged."


	4. Name

_Oh, for fuck’s sake_ , Ash groans into his hands as he listens to the decibels between Blake and Jayden start rising again. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, from the corner of his eye, he can see the two standing just outside Jayden’s office, the air positively crackling between them. At least they are only fighting this time – _for now_ – even if it does appear like the ‘heads are about to roll’ kind of deal again; at least if the way the usually calm and collected Jayden is clenching his fists at his sides so hard Ash is pretty sure he can see the knuckles turning white is any indication.

Not for the first time, Ash finds himself fervently wishing for an iPod, a Walkman, _anything_ , to block those two out. He’s had it up to _here_ with the way they constantly scream and snarl, bitch and snipe at each other. He’s used to Blake being an insufferable bastard at times, and he’ll be the first to admit it was funny at first to watch the two tear chunks out of each other – but by God, the way Jayden is able to give as good as he gets certainly does not help when things escalate like this between them.

He raises his head a little – along with everyone else in the precinct – when a decidedly aggravated, at-the-end-of-his-tether ‘Fuck you, _Carter_!” echoes through the room.

Leaning his chin against his palm, Ash watches with mildly piqued interest as the two push irately into each other’s personal spaces now, hands gesturing wildly, punctuated by Blake’s dangerously low growl of “Back off, _Norman_ ”.

The corners of his mouth twitching ever-so-slightly upwards, Ash shakes his head.

That was another thing about the two. Usually, even mid-snark, they referred to each other by their last names. It was always _Blake_ this and _Jayden_ that. _But_ : as soon as the tension between them starts to _really_ build up, in anger _or otherwise_ – and God knew Ash had involuntarily been an auditory witness to the other aspect of it enough times to know – it changed. Suddenly it was _Carter_ and _Norman_. It was especially fascinating because it was a behaviour pattern both of them appeared to have adopted seemingly independently of one another. It was as if it was completely natural, simply the intuitive thing to do in regards to each other – in fury or in passion, or sometimes both. Ash couldn’t say he understood what, exactly, was the true significance behind such a habit, but it certainly spoke volumes of their relationship, at least to Ash.

He is snapped out of his thoughts by Jayden’s voice, so furious he can’t quite control the volume of his hissing whisper that Ash is pretty sure mentions the couch, followed by the door to the agent’s make-shift office slamming shut and Blake half-stalking, half-stomping back to his own desk.

“Fucking FBI”, the detective mutters irately, his voice twisting the letters mockingly as he shoves himself into his chair. “Fuck that.”

Ash only laughs under his breath, ignoring the vitriolic “What?” Blake spits at him, before going pointedly back to his own work. At least he’ll have some peace and quiet – _for now_.


	5. Weakness

Jayden wakes up to the feeling of disorientation, like he isn’t quite where he’s supposed to be or when he’s supposed to be there. Blearily, he blinks to make the room focus. Blake’s bedroom, filled with the pale golden light of the morning sun – which in and off itself is unusual for the season.

_Shit. Did I sleep through the damn alarm again?_

With a jerk, Jayden lifts his head enough to peer at the alarm clock on the night stand, ready to bolt for the shower when a voice filled with amusement stops him.

“Well, look who’s returned among the living. Jesus, Norman, you sleep like fucking rock, anyone ever tell you that?”

“…what?” Jayden asks, twisting his body to face Blake, lying on his back with a book in his hands.

“Somehow I would’ve assumed you to be the type to be up at ass-o’clock in the morning, even on your days off.”

“Day…off?” Jayden mutters, then slumping back into his nest of blankets. “It’s Saturday.”

“I can see why they let you into the FBI.”

“Very funny, Carter”, the young agent mock-scowls, smacking his partner on the arm. “So what’s your excuse for being awake, then?”

“Was watching you sleep.”

The look Jayden shoots at him is pure amused shock. “Not suspicious at all.”

“If you must know”, Blake hums, a low rumble in his chest as he puts the book away and unceremoniously rolls over to cover Jayden’s body with his own, “I _was_ starting to contemplate the most interesting way of waking your ass up.”

“Yeah?” Jayden challenges with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.”

“And what conclusion did you arrive at?”

With nothing but a downright filthy wink, Blake moves down Jayden’s body, sliding under the blankets as he goes. A second later, Jayden gasps at the ticklish scrape of a goatee against the hyper-sensitive skin of his abdomen, followed by lips and tongue.

“Oh. _Oh._ Well, that’s… That’s… _Ah_ , that’s a very… _agreeable_ conclusion”, he manages, words coming in a babbling rush as his hips cant up of their own volition, seeking more contact as Blake applies just the slightest bit of teeth to the bit of skin they both know will drive Jayden absolutely wild.


	6. Tears

“Problem, Jayden?” Blake asks with a cocked eyebrow from the kitchen doorway, stopped there by the unusual sound of sniffling interlacing with the steady cutting sound of the kitchen knife.

“No. Why?” Jayden responds tightly, pointedly keeping his back to Blake, but his words are punctuated by another poorly-disguised sniffle and a quick swipe of the back of his hand over his eyes.

“You’re crying”, Blake states matter-of-factly, a slight edge of a teasing grin to his words.

“Am not”, Jayden retorts defensively, before bringing down his knife somewhat more harshly than strictly necessary on whatever he is chopping, or at least _trying to_ chop. “It’s this god _damn_ onion…”

Blake lets out a huffy laugh at that, pushing himself away from the door frame and into the kitchen. “I’d hate to break out the ‘I told you so’…”

“Yeah, yeah”, Jayden grumbles, though without much venom, even as he wipes at his eyes again irately. “I’m sure you would.”

Blake laughs again, before settling directly behind Jayden and grasping him by the hips to pull him flush against himself, back-to-chest. “Come here, you idiot”, he murmurs lowly in Jayden’s ear.

“Blake, what are you doing?” Jayden’s voice is confused, with a slight edge of irritation still laced in.

“Just shut up and let me help. Close your eyes.”

“ _What?_ How is that—“

“Just _do it_ ”, Blake tells him in a voice that betrays just how used to he is to Jayden always questioning him, while lifting one hand to cover the agent’s eyes.

“I fail to grasp how this helps, Carter”, Jayden still argues, although he hasn’t made a move to step away. “How can I chop the onion if I can’t see?”

“Trust me”, Blake says, which earns a wry scoff from his partner.

“Oh, right, that’s okay then”, Jayden deadpans sarcastically, shoving slightly back against the older cop. “I’ll trust you to take me to the ER when I lose a finger because of you.”

Blake’s laugh is a low rumble in his chest. “Agreed. Now for once in your life, Jayden, stop talking and just do what you’re told.”

Jayden sighs, and Blake _knows_ the sound is accompanied by a roll of his eyes, until finally he can feel the feather-light fluttering of Jayden’s long, soft lashes against his palm as the agent closes his eyes.

“Keep ‘em closed”, Blake instructs as he removes his hand from Jayden’s eyes and instead takes hold of the agent’s hands in both of his, helping him position the knife and the onion.

“Okay?” he asks against Jayden’s ear before making the first cutting motion.

“Mm-hm”, Jayden replies just the tiniest bit distractedly and Blake can feel him swallow thickly, although whether it’s from their intimate position or the perceived threat of losing a finger, he isn’t a hundred per cent sure.

“Okay, and now you just…” he says, voice barely above a breath that raises goose bumps on the back of Jayden’s neck, as he guides their joined hands through the first chop, one hand covering Jayden’s on the knife, the other one protecting the fingers of the hand holding the onion.

Jayden exhales carefully, his fingers twitching almost imperceptibly under Blake’s.

“Good. Again.” And Blake is moving their hands again, this time in three or four continuous chops, before stilling again.

“See?” he hums into the hair by Jayden’s ear, pressing their bodies just a little bit closer and maybe, just _maybe_ , rubbing himself against Jayden’s behind the slightest bit. “Helps with the tears.”

Jayden exhales again, but this time it’s definitely less controlled and a whole lot more strained, followed by a delicious shudder running down the length of his body.

It has Blake grinning: this time he is willing to bet money that the reaction has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fear of losing any fingers.


	7. Jealousy

Jayden’s breath is just starting to hitch in that high-pitched way that it does when he’s getting close, toes curling in on themselves and the rocking of his hips on Blake’s lap getting desperate when the grating sound of a ringtone blasts through the otherwise mostly quiet room.

For just about a second, the sound goes unnoticed, until suddenly, recognizing the tone, Jayden’s rhythm falters and he lets out a frustrated keen. “I can’t believe this…” he groans, head slumping to lean his forehead against Blake’s.

“Ignore it”, Blake growls, planting small nips with just the smallest edge of teeth against Jayden’s jaw line.

“Can’t, it’s my work phone…”

“Leave it. Just don’t answer, who cares”, Blake repeats, hands busying themselves on Jayden’s hips, encouraging him to start moving again.

“But… _Nnh_ , Carter, wait, wait…”, Jayden tries, moving his own hands to cover Blake’s in an effort to still him, make him listen. His voice sounds every bit as strained and frustrated as Blake’s does, but at the same time urgent to get this point across. “Carter. I can’t. They know I’m home.”

Blake goes very still at that, leaning back to shoot Jayden a look that’s somewhere between disbelieving and offended.

"How could they _possibly_ know you're home, Norm?"

It’s Jayden’s turn, for once, to pin his partner with a look that says exactly how slow he thinks Blake is being. "...Carter. It's _the FBI_."

Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Letting out an explosive sigh of resignation, Blake loosens his hold on Jayden’s hips just as the agent starts to climb out of his lap to reach for his phone still making that aggravating vibrating sound against the coffee table, both of them hissing at the feel of Blake slipping out of Jayden’s body.

It’s a credit to Jayden that his voice betrays next to nothing about his state when he answers with a clipped and almost-controlled “Jayden”, even as Blake grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “fucking Feds” in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yyyeah, you might recognize where the inspiration for this came if you've seen "The Rock". I apologize for nothing.


	8. Hands

“Uhh, Carter? What the hell is _that_?”

“What the hell is what?” Blake’s tone is laced with irritation, fingers busy as he tries to throw together something even remotely resembling a proper knot on his tie.

“ _That_ ”, Jayden repeats, eyes trained on the lump of fabric Blake has managed to create. “What have you done to that poor tie?”

“It’s a knot, you smartass. I’m in a hurry, okay, so what if it’s not perfect.”

“ _That_ is not a knot”, Jayden scoffs, sounding downright offended that Blake would even suggest such a thing. “That, good sir, is an abomination.”

Before Blake even has a chance to fire an acerbic come-back, Jayden is standing close, very much in his personal space, delicate hands lifting to grab hold of the butchered tie.

“Here, let me show you how it’s done.” There is an infuriating little glint of victory in the agent’s eyes, accompanied by the barest twitch of a self-satisfied smirk, as his long, nimble fingers carefully undo the knot and start on a new, proper one, all the while brushing painfully obviously against Blake’s throat and collarbones through the fabric of his shirt.

“Show-off”, Blake huffs, trying not to be obvious about how fascinated with Jayden’s dexterous hands he is, exactly.

Jayden, the little shit, seems to know anyway, if the way he presses himself closer still, fingers hovering over the tie and the buttons of Blake’s shirt is any indication. “So… How much in a hurry did you say you were, again?”

“Let them wait”, Blake growls, grabbing a hold of Jayden’s wrists and using them as leverage to start backing him towards the bedroom while hungrily claiming his mouth with his own. “I’ll just tell them you caused an incident with a tie.”

Jayden can only manage breathy chuckle in response, agile hands already busy undoing their own work.


	9. Taste

Blake has been acting weird over that box of donuts of his _all day_.

Jayden spotted the older cop bringing it with him when he came to the precinct this morning, more or less just dumping it on the break room table, but the agent did not really pay much attention to it beyond that cursory observation. He has been too busy with his own work. He did make a vague note that most of the contents of the box had vanished by lunch hour at the latest – except for a single one, sitting alone in the box, now wrapped in cling-film, Jayden notices, as he passes by in a haste.

It's that single, lonely donut that seems to have Blake growling at his colleagues like an angry dog guarding a bone.

More than once during the afternoon, Jayden has found his eyebrows lifting to his hairline at the barked order of "hey, that's mine, back the fuck off!"

It makes him wonder why the hell Blake doesn't just eat the damn thing, but he's come to a conclusion a while ago that trying to figure the older cop out is not very often worth the headache, so he just shrugs and carries on with his work.

It's sometime during the early evening hours, as Jayden is absently sipping at his coffee while sorting through his case files – the coffee brought from home in a vacuum flask; he still doesn't trust the coffee machine at the precinct – that Blake walks into his office, without so much as knocking, and unceremoniously drops the donut box on his desk while seating himself on the edge of it.

Jayden's eyes flicker from the single donut, still sitting alone in the box, wrapped in cling-film, to Blake. "Uhh...?" he says eloquently, question in his voice.

Blake shrugs, trying for nonchalance, but Jayden's pretty sure he can recognize it as fake. "Seem to have bought one too many, so I guess there's one for you, too, if you want it. You know. Before it goes bad."

Jayden cocks a half-amused, half-inquisitive eyebrow at this partner. He almost points out how he's seen people practically get beaten away from it with a stick, but then thinks better of it, instead leaning casually back in his chair and fixing Blake with a look. "What makes you think I even like donuts?" he asks, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth despite himself.

It's Blake's turn to fix him with a look. Actually, it's more of an incredulous stare, as if he thinks Jayden is being incredibly slow and stupid – Jayden's seen the look directed at himself enough times to recognize it by now – before he speaks with a scoff. "Well fuck, Jayden. You're still a cop, aren't you? You might technically be FBI, but that doesn't make you _not_ a cop." He shoves the box a little towards Jayden, aiming what passes as a fondly gruff grin in his case at him. "So drop the act and eat up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanting to give the stupid cute agent boyfriend all the nice things but being too tsundere as fuck? Yeah, that's you, Blake, all over!


	10. Blood

“What the fuck is that?” Blake asks, arms crossed over his chest in anger as he stares at the long trail of blood across Jayden’s back, staining his dress shirt.

“What the fuck is what?” Jayden echoes distractedly, busy cleaning a cut on his temple in front of the bathroom mirror.

“ _This_ ”, Blake grounds out, stepping close and pressing his thumb purposefully hard into the bleeding cut.

“Ow! Shit, Carter, that was uncalled-for!” Jayden winces and gasps at the pain, and the Philadelphia cop notes with satisfaction the accidental lapse to the use of his first name.

“What. Is. It?” Blake repeats, stressing each word.

“Uhh. A katana cut?” Jayden hazards reluctantly, almost nervously. He already knows the kind of reaction he’s going to get.

“A _what_?” Blake practically thunders, making Jayden hunch slightly into his shoulders. He hadn’t meant for his partner to even see the wound, for this exact reason. Blake tends to overreact.

“At the Blue Lagoon. I was trying to talk to the owner, follow a lead on the Origami Killer, but there was – “

“Off”, Blake orders gruffly, effectively interrupting Jayden’s poor explanation of the night’s events.

“Excuse me?” the agent stammers, aiming an uncomprehending frown at the older cop through the mirror.

“Your shirts. Off”, the older man orders again, making a jabbing motion with his thumb.

 

After Jayden complies, though not without an exasperated roll of his eyes – and a hiss of pain as the matted blood sticks his undershirt to the wound and _pulls_ at it – Blake is cleaning the wound and bandaging it up, reaching around Jayden’s body to roll gauze around his chest. It’s a conflicting sight: Jayden’s naked upper body, almost on the skinny side of slender but muscled in a beautifully subtle way, inviting Blake to run his hands all over it – but at the moment sadly littered with angry black-and-blue marks that hurt just to look at.

“You fucking asshole”, Blake grumbles as he tucks the gauze securely in place, “I should just kill you myself and save myself all this trouble.” His words, however, are betrayed by the way his hands find their place on Jayden’s sides and smooth up and down hotly.

“Mm, maybe you should”, Jayden hums lowly, twisting around enough to seek his partner’s mouth with his own. “Thanks”, he whispers against Blake’s lips.


	11. Sickness

The sound of someone practically pounding down his hotel room door pulls Jayden out of his almost-coma. He is still slouched on the shower floor, the cool water running over him, drenching him and probably ruining his suit.

_Shit_ , Jayden mentally groans, but the thought is half-hearted at best. It's hard to care through the skull-splitting headache and nausea.

The pounding on his door continues and Jayden imagines he can hear a familiar voice cursing at him. He wants to ignore it, but knows his partner is about 200 percent more likely to break through the door than get tired and leave. Blake is aggravatingly stubborn like that.

It requires a ridiculous amount of effort and will-power, but Jayden finally pulls himself to his feet, turning off the shower and shuffling to the door, his soaked pant legs dragging a wet trail behind him.

It takes pretty much every scrap of his remaining determination and strength to manage opening the door, and he leans heavily against it as he stares blearily at Blake. “What?” he says as a way of a greeting.

Blake, in a once-in-a-million occurrence, is apparently struck dumb for a moment, just staring with widening eyes, before a disconcerted frown pulls his brows together. “Holy fuck, Norm”, he finally blurts out. “What happened to you?”

Jayden shrugs jerkily, stumbling back from the door to allow Blake entrance – he's going to be coming in anyway, with or without Jayden's approval – only to slump against a wall and slide down it to an unattractive heap on the floor when his legs finally give away. “Oh, you know”, he manages, with a pitiful attempt at a smile. It feels more like a grimace on his chilled face. Probably looks like it, too.

“Right”, Blake only says, running his eyes knowingly over Jayden's pale and clammy face and bloodshot eyes. “Where is it?”

“...what?” Jayden asks. Words feel like sand, slipping through the metaphorical fingers of his foggy mind. It's hard to concentrate on anything except the gruff hum of Blake's voice.

“Where is it?” Blake repeats firmly, his voice no-nonsense.

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but finally comprehension dawns on Jayden's face. “Oh. I...I flushed it.”

An almost impressed grin pulls at the corner of the Philadelphia cop's mouth. "Good boy", he exhales, before continuing in what would probably be a startlingly uncharacteristic show of caring if it was directed at anyone else. "Alright, come on, you moron. Get up and we'll get you cleaned up. You look like shit."

“...In case you can't tell”, Jayden laughs humourlessly, while shooting a dark glance up at Blake through his fingers, “I already showered.”

“Not with me, you didn't”, Blake points out matter-of-factly. “Up.”

“Blake, please”, Jayden sighs almost pathetically into his palms.

“ _Up_ ”, Blake orders firmly, though not without sympathy, reaching down and grabbing Jayden's wrist and pulling him up, ignoring the pained groan of protest.

 

Admittedly, Jayden is forced to concede, having his soap-slick body pressed hard against the tiles of the shower wall while Blake thrusts smoothly into him, a rough hand sliding familiarly between his legs, is a wonderfully better way of dealing with withdrawals.


	12. Confusion

“Well. That certainly was an interesting… _discussion_ ”, Jayden lets out in a breathless huff at his hotel room ceiling. From the corner of his peripheral vision, he can see Blake staring at the same ceiling, but there is a nonchalant grin tugging the corners of his mouth upwards.

For the life of him, Jayden could not explain how they had ended up like this: from the rain-soaked, muddy, freezing Wasteland, with the agreement of going somewhere _inside_ to discuss the case, to his hotel room, through the shower, to his bed, where…not much _discussing_ had taken place.

He was still no closer to understanding the case, or the clues he’d found at the scene, _or_ the gruff lieutenant he’d be working with. But… Well. He wasn’t exactly complaining – yet, at least.


	13. Market

_Really should help him out_ , Blake idly thinks to himself with an asshole-ish grin curving his mouth as he watches Jayden dash like a shot after Korda. But, he reasons, he just got a face-full of scalding hot coffee, so really, it’s only fair for the skinny bastard to do all the legwork this time.

Guy’s agile, though, he has to admit. Jayden slides almost effortlessly over a car hood to avoid getting run over, and then, as Blake follows at a more sedate pace, he catches glimpses of the young agent navigating through the crowded market, weaving between people and avoiding the obstacles Korda tries to trip him up with, all the while running at full tilt. It’s not all beauty and grace, but damn if the guy isn’t stubbornly effective all the same. It makes an altogether different kind of grin take over Blake’s face.

He finally catches up to the pair in the meat locker, where Jayden has apparently taken the guy out with _a_ _fucking meat hook_. It’s pretty damn impressive, even if Jayden himself is bruised and battered, too, and evidently exhausted – his breathing is heavy and laboured, his hands braced on his knees to support himself as he tries to catch his breath. His pale face is sweaty and flushed, and suddenly Blake gets a glimpse of an ugly red mark across his neck, probably from being strangled with the meat hook.

“God _damn_ , Jayden”, Blake lets out with a low whistle, crowding close to the agent and resting a hand possessively over the curve of his behind, making small patting motions. “Nice one.”

Jayden only makes an unintelligible grunt in response, waving his hand in a half-dismissive, half-annoyed gesture before leaning his weight gratefully against the older cop.


	14. Technology

"What the hell do you _honestly_ even think you're doing with those fancy-ass sunglasses of yours?" Blake asks one time when they're perusing a crime scene together, Jayden's hands busy making frankly idiotic-looking gestures in mid-air as the agent mumbles a constant stream of commentary about what he finds to... _someone_.

It takes a moment for Jayden to register that he is being spoken to. Slowly, as if reluctant to tear himself away from what he's doing, he stands up to look at his partner, head cocked to the side inquisitively. The blue light shining under the glasses and illuminating the top part of his face is frankly _freaky_ in the low light of the warehouse.

The smile tugging at the corners of Jayden's lips is smug when he says, "It's a forensic tool, Blake. A highly advanced augmented reality interface. On the field it can be used to highlight any piece of evidence left in the environment, and then to pinpoint who it belongs to, whether it's relevant or not..."

"Alright, alright, mister CSI", Blake snorts, waving his hand in an _'I get it, shut up already'_ kind of gesture. Then he seems to think better of it and aims a carefully interested look back at Jayden. " _Any_ evidence?"

Jayden nods, still smiling. "Fingerprints, DNA, blood... They light up on the interface like... like..." He struggles for words for a moment, a note of wonder in his voice, then aims a slightly helpless look at his partner before finishing somewhat lamely, "Well, you've seen blood spatters under a black light, right? It's...almost like that."

"Lights up DNA spatters, huh?" Blake hums, giving Jayden a long look. The corners of his mouth begin to twitch, then finally he releases a chuckle. "They should come and investigate our bedroom with that thing."

Jayden stares in mute shock for a moment, his mouth dropping open as the meaning behind the words truly sinks in. "What?! No, they should _NOT_! Jesus Christ, Carter..." he mutters, a horrified blush high on his cheeks as elbows past the older cop to continue utilising the ARI for its actual, _intended purposes_.


	15. Hair

When Blake first discovered it, it was completely by accident.

During one of their first ‘encounters’, he had been bending Jayden’s body over the desk when on an impulse he had found his fingers twisting into the agent’s hair and using it as leverage to crane his head back. Jayden’s breath had hitched and stuttered in a completely new way, an uncontrolled and helplessly keening litany of whimpers and _‘oh oh oh oh-‘_ falling from kiss-bruised lips.

His eyebrow cocking in aroused amusement, Blake had leaned in close, whispering harshly against the shell of Jayden’s ear, “You like that, huh?”

His answer had been a long, choked-off groan and Jayden nodding feverishly, inadvertently pulling his own hair against Blake’s grasp and resulting in a delicious shudder skittering down the length of his body.

 

After that, well. Never let it be said Blake was the type to miss out on an opportunity to use a weakness to his advantage.

 

They are attending a briefing, Jayden for once sitting next to him in the audience instead of being the one actually doing the briefing. He has a notebook sitting on his lap, smoke almost rising from where his pen is hastily scribbling down the details of their suspect, although his shorthand appears mostly indecipherable to Blake.

_Such a good little student_ , the lieutenant mentally scoffs, a dirty grin starting to play at the corner of his mouth as an idea forms in his mind. _Time to mess with that concentration a little._

Slowly, although without really bothering to hide his actions, Blake lifts his hand from where it had been casually resting on the back of Jayden’s chair and sneaks it into the soft, dark mess of the agent’s hair, the strands sliding smoothly between his fingers, before forming a firm fist in it.

Jayden’s reaction is immediate: his pen falters on the page, making a messy squiggle of the word he had been writing as his breathing snags and morphs into a gasp, barely held back by biting into his lower lip. It’s a goddamn miracle he doesn’t fumble the pen to the floor or outright moan – although Blake would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed by the latter.

“You alright there, Jayden?” Blake asks in low murmur, mock-worried.

“I… _unh_ , hate you”, Jayden manages, voice strained and breathy, fingers clutching the pen so hard it’s a wonder it hasn’t been snapped in half yet.

Blake chuckles, momentarily relaxing his grip just slightly to massage his fingertips against Jayden’s scalp. “Yeah, and you really sound it.”


	16. Walking

_Jesus fucking Christ_ , Blake huffs irately under his breath as he starts trudging through the newest crime scene, the newly-arrived federal agent in tow.

It’s bad enough that the FBI has become involved at all – Blake could _seriously_ do without anyone meddling in his investigative methods – but did the guy sent in from Washington have to be so goddamn—Blake aborts the thought before the word that threatens to take shape in his head can properly form. He’ll be damned if he gets caught thinking of this guy as _cute_.

Even so, he is painfully and acutely aware of the younger man’s footsteps squelching in the mud behind him, before haltingly falling behind and then stopping altogether, the guy’s attention apparently distracted by something.

“You coming, Jayden?” he calls over his shoulder, perhaps a smidgeon more impatiently than strictly necessary – and could immediately kick himself for his own choice of words and the completely uncalled-for slightly lewd tone of his traitorous voice.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m coming”, the agent calls back, his Boston accent coming on thick for a moment, before his footsteps hurry to catch up, and jesus, Blake almost bursts out laughing. So not only is the guy ridiculously socially awkward, as Blake has discovered, but apparently completely content to blithely miss Blake’s ragingly stupid innuendo.

Blake shakes his head, already damning the agent for the complete and utter nuisance Blake knows he is going to turn out to be.


	17. Worry

“Okay, should we be worried about this?” Blake asks from the doorway to the bathroom where he’s leaning against the jamb.

“Worried about what?” Jayden asks weakly between retches, voice echoing miserably inside the toilet bowl.

 _‘About what?’_ , Blake mouths incredulously at Jayden’s hunched form, even though he’s aware that the agent probably won’t be able to see it. “You idiot, how about the fact that you haven’t been able to keep anything down since this morning. That shit can’t be good.” For a moment he chews the inside of his cheek, but then can’t resist adding the jab of, “You’re not pregnant, are you, Norm?”

“Ha ha, very funny. You’re hilarious, Carter”, Jayden groans, then slumps down against the toilet bowl, forehead leaning against the cool porcelain as his stomach has apparently decided to be done heaving for now. “It’s just…one of those days.”

“Uh-huh”, Blake hums, still dissatisfied. “Should we be calling a doctor anyway?”

“To have them do what?” Jayden’s tone is tired and he has closed his eyes where he is leaning against the toilet.

“I don’t know, what ever it is they do to annoying little shits when they get sick and whine a lot.”

Jayden’s eyes crack open at that, to take in the impish grin twisting Blake’s mouth, and he manages a pitiful attempt at flipping the lieutenant off. “Why do I even put up with you, Blake? Because seriously, right now, I honestly can’t recall.”

“Sure you can’t”, Blake continues grinning, then steps away from the door as Jayden’s stomach apparently revolts again and the agent’s head disappears into the bowl. “I’ll get you that yoghurt then, shall I?” he calls through a chuckle, already knowing the answer he’s going to get, because—

“I hate that stuff, don’t you dare!”


	18. Wasteland

“Hey, Norm. You know back at the Wasteland, when we first met?”

“Yeah?” Jayden calls back to the bedroom from where he’s buttoning up his shirt in front the en-suite bathroom mirror.

“You would’ve been a hell of a lot more convincing if you hadn’t kept sneezing like a goddamn kitten every two minutes”, Blake says, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“…What?” comes the halted reply after a second of silence. Blake can practically _hear_ the confused frown Jayden is shooting at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Well, that, and that ridiculously muddied suit of yours. _Really_ , Norm? Is that what they call a ‘professional look’ in the EFF-BEE-AYE? What the actual hell were you playing at on that slope, anyway?”

With a laugh, he catches the balled-up tie being tossed irately at him.


	19. Birthday

Jayden wakes up to Blake’s hand wrapped around him inside his sleeping pants, rubbing and teasing and caressing until Jayden gives a delicious, surprised shudder and comes all over Blake’s hand, hard and with a long, choked groan, before they’ve even had a chance to exchange a ‘good morning’.

Breakfast consists of barely more than a lot of kissing and wandering hands, their coffee cooling in the cups sitting forgotten on the counter.

They make it all the way to the parking space at the precinct before repeating this morning’s performance, Blake pulling Jayden to straddle his lap in the driver’s seat and sneaking his hand inside the charcoal-grey suit pants, massaging the agent’s length until his keening cry echoes through the otherwise empty lot. “Have a good day at work today”, the lieutenant quips, grinning without a hint of remorse as Jayden lets a completely wrecked groan against his shoulder, clearly communicating how work _really_ is not at the top of his priority list right now.

All through the day, Blake keeps aiming downright filthy looks at him every time Jayden strays from his makeshift office, even giving his behind an altogether too distracting squeeze while they’re huddled around the older cop’s desk to go through some case files.

When they’ve finally made it home at the end of the day, and showered to clean the residue of Blake smearing cake and whipped cream all over Jayden, Blake wraps an arm around Jayden’s naked torso and pulls him against his chest as they lie in bed together.

“Had a good one today?” he asks against the skin behind Jayden’s ear.

The young agent grins, briefly covering Blake’s hand with his own before rolling deftly over in Blake’s hold. “Oh yes”, he murmurs into the scant space between their mouths. “I should have a birthday more often.”


	20. Burning

They are a mess of breathless laughter and sloppy, hungry kisses as they tumble into bed, Jayden eagerly falling onto his back as Blake moves to straddle his thighs, hovering over the slimmer body.

For a moment, it’s just a heated clash of mouths and hands as they feverishly fight to touch and taste as much of each other as possible. Then, Blake slowly sits back, his hands moving up to undo his tie, batting away Jayden’s hands as the agent moves to help.

“Carter?” Jayden asks, a slight edge of confused frustration to his question.

The look the older lieutenant aims at him – hot and suggestive and edged with a little _something_ – makes Jayden swallow and his face heat up as Blake pulls the now-undone strip of fabric from around his neck and leans over him.

The question on Jayden’s lips shrivels and gets lost when Blake captures both of his hands in his and moves them up and over his head, the fabric of the tie fluttering over the skin of his wrists.

“How about this?” Blake starts to say, low and breathy and filthy against the shell of Jayden’s ear, “You’re so good at _tying_ a necktie – let’s see how good you are at _untying_ one.”

Jayden’s eyes widen and he _groans_ , breathless and hopelessly aroused, his body already arching off the bed from just the feel of Blake securing his hands to the headboard.

“A little eager, aren’t we?” Blake grins, breath ghosting over Jayden’s neck as his hands run down the lean chest, heavy and hot and deliberately teasing, taking advantage of every sensitive spot they’ve familiarised themselves with long ago.

Jayden only musters another long moan, voice already thick with need, his whole body starting to vibrate with it as he presses himself into the touch.

“Hey… Wanna see if we can make you actually wake up the neighbours?”

“ _Oh god…_ ” Jayden chokes out, throwing his head back and screwing his eyes shut, the mere mental image making the coil of heat in his abdomen curl up painfully tight.

The grin in Blake’s voice, already dripping with arousal of his own, is obvious as he nips at Jayden’s neck. “Oh yeah, I think I’m _really_ going to enjoy taking my time with you.”


	21. Breathing

Suddenly, about midway through December, a mistletoe appears, completely unannounced, in the doorway of Jayden’s office. Jayden himself will deny to the ends of the earth and back having been the one to put it there, and it hardly seems plausible for Blake to have done it.

Either way, there it hangs, cause of much amused whispering and ridiculously ill-concealed sideways glances every time the two of them happen to be heading towards Jayden’s office together.

“I think they know, and are making fun of us”, Jayden says one such a time, speaking to the case folders he's cradling in his arms to avoid eye contact, voice such a low murmur that even Blake, standing so close to his side, almost misses it.

“And?” Blake asks with a cocked eyebrow, a surprising amount of nonchalance in the gesture. Usually Blake is at least a smidgeon defensive about jokes cracked at his expense – especially when it comes to his not-quite-public relationship with Jayden.

Jayden shrugs. “Just an observation. I thought it’d bother you more.”

Blake answers with an airy one-shoulder shrug of his own, the grin forming in the corner of his mouth slightly ominous. “So let’s give ‘em something to _really_ talk about.”

“What?” Jayden has time to ask, bewildered, before Blake is pulling him roughly into his arms and backing him against the doorframe with a thud. Jayden’s gasp of surprise is lost in the hot, _possessive_ slide of Blake’s mouth over his, the kiss deep and hungry from the start, all teeth and tongue. It’s all the young agent can do to keep himself from groaning too loud, although the sound he _does_ make as he begins to match Blake’s intensity still echoes loudly in the suddenly deathly silent room.

Moving into the embrace despite himself, Jayden feels one of Blake’s hands cradling the back his head, fingers brushing the short hairs there, while the other lays proprietarily on the curve of his lower back, pushing their bodies tightly together. He is dimly aware of his own hands grasping the front of Blake’s shirt, rumpling the fabric in his tightly-clenched fists – which, he foggily realizes, must mean that he has dropped the files he had been holding at some point. True enough, as he shifts his feet, the sound of paper rustling under his shoes faintly registers in his mind. Not that he can bring himself to especially care, his world narrowed down to the feeling of Blake kissing the life out of him.

That is, until someone lets out a long, possibly impressed whistle, followed by someone else’s awkward coughing.

Jayden’s first instinct is to jump apart at the sound, but Blake’s hands keep him in place, the one still on the back of his head allowing him to pull away exactly far enough for their foreheads to lean together.

“Okay?” Blake asks with uncharacteristic almost-gentleness, although that ominous grin is still there, playing at the corners of his mouth.

Jayden lets out an almost soundless, formless chuckle into the small space between their kiss-bruised mouths, incapable of much else as he works to catch his breath.

"...wow", he finally manages, the words barely more than a gasp.


	22. Breaking

On the first night after the warehouse, Jayden is dead to the world for fourteen hours straight, occasionally twitching and muttering something incoherently, but mostly just sleeping like a log.

After everything, Blake isn’t surprised, and even though he himself, too, has had the first truly decently restful night in a _long_ while, he knows the case had very nearly been enough to claim Jayden’s life, the agent running on empty both mentally and physically towards the end. The final confrontation with Scott had been especially jarring – for both of them, but obviously more so to Jayden, who had very nearly _died_.

It is for that reason Blake doesn’t disturb Jayden until the agent decides to return to consciousness on his own, apparently finally pulled awake by the smell of coffee.

“Hey, you”, Blake offers a lopsided smile as Jayden shuffles into the kitchen, steps still slightly dragging from sleep.

“Hey”, Jayden mumbles back through a soft smile of his own, jaw cracking with a massive yawn.

“C’mere, let me look at you”, Blake says, beckoning with his hand.

For a moment Jayden looks appropriately suspicious, one eyebrow lifted in a clear question of _‘why?’_ , but then he apparently decides to trust Blake and comes to stand next to him where the older cop is sitting at the kitchen island.

Reaching out, Blake takes a light hold on Jayden’s chin, taking a good look the agent’s face.

It’s obvious Jayden has just woken up – his eyes still have that slightly unfocused, droopy quality to them, his hair is an absolute mess and if Blake looks close enough, to his amusement he can actually spot faint pillow creases on the pale cheeks. Less amusingly, the pillow creases are accompanied by the discoloration of forming bruises and there are large, dark circles around Jayden’s eyes, which have a tiredness to them that will take more than mere sleep to erase. It makes a displeased and worried frown tug at the corner of Blake’s mouth as he smoothes his thumb over the soft skin of the agent’s cheek, lightly caressing the skin. It is, however, soon erased by Jayden offering a smile that starts out minutely bemused, before morphing into tenderly appreciative, head tilting towards the touch. “I’ll be alright now”, he says quietly in an almost-whisper.

Blake quirks an encouraging smile of his own, giving Jayden’s cheek one more lingering brush with his thumb. “Damn right you will”, he says, before sneaking his hand lightning-fast from the agent’s chin to his hair, giving the already messy bed-head a harshly affectionate ruffling.

With a sound of protest that is more than a little undignified, Jayden pulls quickly away, swatting at Blake’s hand as he backs out of its reach. “Jesus, Carter”, he mutters through an incredulous half-chuckle, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to stop it from sticking out in such odd angles.

Blake only aims an unapologetic smirk in his direction, but once Jayden has made a detour via the coffee machine and parked himself next to Blake at the island, there is nothing but companionship and caring in the way their shoulders brushing and lean against each other.


	23. Quirks

It turns out Blake is actually a pretty good cook, and, perhaps a little surprisingly, enjoys doing it with Jayden – although the young agent isn’t quite sure whether it’s truly just for the genuine pleasure of it, or for being able to have something to one-up him with. Either way, a lot of the time it is sincerely enjoyable: they share a few beers or glasses of whiskey – the latter definitely more for Blake's pleasure than Jayden's – while preparing their food, accompanied by familiar banter and barbs thrown at each other. Other times, it starts that way, only to turn into ridiculous, more-or-less friendly horsing around, with food being thrown and smeared into each other's faces. Afterwards, Blake usually grumbles about the waste of food, although even he is forced to admit that for all that, the events are no less enjoyable.

 

For his part, Blake occasionally finds Jayden absent-mindedly tapping an edge of a table, fingers dancing over the surface as if over a keyboard of a piano. It appears to be more likely to happen when the agent is bored or when, on an extremely rare occasion, his attention starts to wander away from him, but it always seems to be an unconscious action, his eyes acquiring a sort of far-away look.

Blake was not _completely_ unaware of the habit the first time he saw it happen. He had walked in on Jayden in his office, those fancy sunglasses on his face, the freaky blue glow spilling from underneath them as his fingers walked over invisible keys, playing a melody evidently only Jayden was able to hear. Casually curious, he’d asked then if Jayden knew how to really play an actual piano, but the agent had only shrugged and mumbled an awkward “not really”. Blake is still undecided on whether that was a lie or not.


	24. Quarrel

The impact of his fist against Blake’s face smarts his hand, and Jayden has a split-second to realize, _Shit, I’m in for it now_ , before he is staring down the barrel of Blake’s gun. He shouldn’t find the retaliation as unexpected as he does – ‘volatile’ doesn’t even begin to describe his partner sometimes – but the magnitude of it still catches him off-guard. He had expected his punch to be re-paid in kind; never like this.

Blake doesn’t even bother wiping the blood dripping from his nose, and Jayden absently wishes that he could find some feeling of satisfaction in causing that small stream of red. Somehow, the gun in his face doesn’t quite leave room for it. Nor does the look on Blake’s face when he growls, “You’d better get the hell outta here, Norman, before I give into the temptation to paint the walls with your fucking brains!”

Jayden feels his mouth pinch into a tight-lipped, hard line. Blake’s threat might be hollow, or it might not, but it tastes like betrayal in the back of his throat all the same. With a final look at this partner – if that’s even an appropriate term to use right now – Jayden storms out of the interrogation room, something _heaving_ in his chest like physical pain. He is fairly sure he can recognize it for what it actually is, but at the moment chooses to interpret it as righteous anger, because he still needs to do something about Mars’s interrogation.


	25. Quitting

The thought is completely cliché. It’s ridiculous and overly sentimental and frankly even _untrue_ in the way most such downright sappy notions are.

Honestly, Triptocain, to Jayden, was never about the _high_. Yes, there was a certain feeling of elation and euphoria related to it, but mostly only in the sense that it dulled and took away the nigh-unbearable pains related to his ARI use and the withdrawals. Yes, it made him feel good and mellowed-out, but he never specifically looked to the drug for those things. It was only ever the means to an end, in a twisted, addicted sort of way.

And even ARI… Yes, he remembers the exhilarating feeling of altering reality with a flick of a wrist, of sorting through crime scenes and dozens of clues and suspects and possible leads within a fraction of the time all of it would have otherwise required. That, he is forced to admit, had been _a rush_. But ARI, too, had been just a tool, another means to end. Something he was forced to rely on in increasing amounts due to the demands of the Origami Killer case. Yes, the feeling of being so in control of something, of being able to achieve something so efficiently had been heady, not unlike a high, but again, not the ultimate reason for his continued use of the device.

But now, as he reflects what his life has become since that fateful case that brought him to this rain-filled city…

The way he now walks hand-in-hand with a man that was more likely to hate him than love him the first time they met. The way he now kisses the man that he punched in the face and who threatened to blow his brains all over the precinct walls in retaliation. The way he now shares his body with the man that pushed and shoved and lashed out at him as he pushed and shoved and lashed out right back with equal force. They screamed and shouted and fought, in and out of the station, circling each other like a couple of territorial dogs.

Until…

Jayden glances at Blake out of the corner of his eye from where he’s cuddled up under the lieutenant’s arm. Blake is sipping at his coffee, eyes glued to the movie playing on the TV screen, not really acknowledging Jayden’s attention on him except for the minute squeeze his hand gives on the agent’s shoulder.

A completely silly smile curves Jayden’s mouth. Damned if it wasn’t sometimes hard; the aggravation, the hurt, perhaps even something that might be labelled as dread. Blake was – and still is – a pain in the ass sometimes, but the truth is that Jayden hasn’t had a withdrawal episode in months, doesn’t even own Triptocain anymore because Blake’s presence in his life completely cancels out the need for it, and the more he thinks about it, the more he is forced to admit, sappy or not:

_Damn if **this** is the best high I’ve ever had._


	26. Smirk

The shouting, turning the air of the apartment blue with curses and garbled obscenities, has been going on for half an hour when Jayden finally pokes his head into the study.

“Uhh, Blake?” he asks carefully from the doorway, as if unsure whether he should be getting involved or not.

“What?” comes the somewhat distracted reply from behind the computer screen.

“I, uh, hate to intervene—“

“So don’t.”

Jayden rolls his eyes, lips pursed in long-suffering amusement at the rude interruption he _knew_ he was going to get, but persists anyway. “Just a suggestion, but… Maybe you shouldn’t play that game anymore if it makes you that angry? You sound like you’re about to have an aneurism.”

It takes another distracted moment, before there’s an incredulous scoff of laughter from Blake. “What, this? No, hell no, I like this game!”

Jayden’s eyebrows pull together in an unconvinced, sceptical frown, arms crossing over his chest. “Right. And are you always this hostile towards the things you like?”

That finally makes Blake look at him, although Jayden finds himself instantly wishing it hadn’t; the look the lieutenant is aiming at him over the top of the computer screen, complete with a pointedly cocked eyebrow, is the culmination of all the _‘REALLY, Jayden, you moron?’_ looks he has ever received – although this one is also edged with obvious fond amusement.

Jayden feels his cheeks turning pink at the implications of that look, letting out a flustered cough. “Actually, wait, never mind, don’t answer that”, he huffs with a shake of his head and hands lifted to halt what ever words Blake might possibly be planning to aim at him. Blake’s chuckle follows him as he turns on his heels and hastily exits the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake is playing "Happy Wheels", by the way, in case anyone is wondering. ;D


	27. Stupidity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, this was a legitimate exchange had with my sister over a roll of Christmas gift wrapping paper!

"Hey, I've got a good one here", Blake says in feigned interest, tone skirting the fine line of _'let's just pick one so we can get the fuck outta here'_ as he holds up a roll of actually half-decent looking gift wrap paper.

"Hm", Jayden hums in consideration from the other side of the aisle. "The pattern's nice, but..." He cocks his head to the side as a slight frown starts to crease his brow. "I like the shape of this roll better. Yours is...unnecessarily different. It's so long and thick."

Blake's eyebrows hike up to his hairline and he shoots Jayden a _'really?'_ look, before shaking his head as a laughter bursts from his lips. "Well shit, Jayden, tell everyone, why don'tcha."

Jayden stares mutely for a moment, his frown deepening and the tilt of his head increasing by the second, until he finally says, intelligently, "...Huh?"

Blake gives a stare of his own, the one he uses when he thinks Jayden is being exceptionally clueless. " _Honestly_ , Jayden?"

Jayden's frown forms into something slightly acerbic and Blake can practically see the cogs frantically turning in the agent's head, only to apparently come up empty, because eventually he says: "I'm sorry, Carter, _what?_ "

Blake's chuckle is laced with a fair amount of amused disbelief, audible even as it is muffled behind the hand he is running over his face. "Holy fuck. I feel like such a cradle robber right now."

"Ha ha", Jayden almost-snaps back, clearly no closer to understanding his own unfortunate case of unintentional innuendo, but gratefully grasping onto the slight subject change. "I guess that makes me a _grave robber_ , then."

"Hey", Blake mock-threatens, "careful now, Jayden. You're cute, but not _that_ cute."

 

It's about three hours later, back at the house, as they are making use of the wrapping paper while drinking coffee, that Jayden suddenly chokes into his, a bright rosy blush of what Blake recognizes as embarrassment lighting up his cheeks.

"What the hell, Jayden?" Blake asks, lifting a suspicious eyebrow.

"I, uhh... Well..." Jayden stammers, coughing up his inhaled coffee as his eyes travel to the roll of wrapping paper – the one that Blake had suggested, a tube shaped unusually long and thick.

Following his partner's gaze, Blake's mouth twists into an incredulous grin as he shakes his head. "Jesus, Norm, took you long enough. They not teach innuendo at agent school?"

Jayden coughs again into his fist, face bright red as he pointedly avoids Blake's eyes even as he snuggles in closer against his side. Blake imagines the latter is an excuse for the former. "No, I suppose they don't."


	28. Sarcasm

“Oh my god, you suck, Jayden”, Blake calls mock-exasperatedly from where he’s sitting on the side bench, attracting the cursory attention of some of the other bowlers, who scowl at him in disapproval.

“Occasionally, yes”, Jayden deadpans dryly, although there is a slightly dirty edge to the lopsided grin he aims at Blake, before he turns back to frown at his bowling ball as it rolls more or less – with emphasis on _less_ – towards its intended targets. “What’s your point?”

Blake lets out an incredulously explosive bark of laughter at Jayden’s suggestive quip, the side of his mouth quirking up as he, too, gazes after Jayden’s bowling ball. “I dunno, guess I figured something like this would be right up your _alley_.”

The look Jayden turns to shoot at him is so dry it makes the Sahara seem like a water park in comparison. “ _Really_ , Carter? How did you even manage that with a straight face?”

“It’s a talent”, Blake says, still grinning as he spreads his hands in a shrug. “Which, by the way, I honestly thought you would have for this kind of precision-accuracy thing.”

“Sorry to prove you wrong”, Jayden huffs a little self-deprecatingly, though it’s obviously more as a joke than him being actually upset.

Blake chuckles at that, standing up to stand next to the young agent and clap him teasingly on the shoulder. “Maybe you should try those fancy-ass sunglasses of yours. Might help with your aim.”

Jayden scoffs, batting Blake’s hand away with a roll of his eyes, although the action is clearly fond. “Who knows, they just might. Would be an unfair advantage, though, if they did.”

“I dunno”, Blake hums in answer, and Jayden can hear the familiar asshole-ish tone in the lieutenant’s voice, although at this point he can recognize it as good-natured. “From where I’m standing, it looks to me like you could use all the help you can get.”

It takes all of Jayden’s will-power not to dignify that with a snappy answer, but he can’t quite resist aiming an elbow to Blake’s ribs in retaliation, followed by another fond roll of his eyes. “Asshole”, he only mutters under his breath, earning another chuckle from his partner.


	29. Solitary

Blake sounds worn out in that sort of short, snappy way he gets when a case drags on for too long without getting resolved.

“Still no progress on the hostages, then? No demands?” Jayden asks over the phone, keeping his voice neutral. He knows Blake’s grousing and foul mood isn’t directed at him personally and so doesn’t let it get to him.

“Not a goddamn thing”, Blake’s tired voice says through a rustle, and Jayden guesses that the lieutenant is running a hand over his face in frustration and exhaustion. “Fuck if I can figure out what these guys are playing at.”

Jayden lets out a sympathising hum at that, wishing he could somehow reach through the phone line to offer some form of physical support; a bump of shoulders, a squeeze of hand… “Should I come up there?” he asks, serious, after a moment of silence. The offer is both professional and personal.

“Nah, don’t.”

Jayden would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised, his eyebrows climbing a little towards his hairline even though he knows Blake won’t be able to see it. “No? Why not?”

This time there is an easily detectable grin in the older cop’s voice when he speaks. “Because I don’t want to get distracted”, he says, voice a low rumble, his tone equal measures of fond and teasing.

Jayden chuckles a little at that, and he knows that Blake knows that he is shaking his head, even without being able to see it. “Fair enough”, he sighs through a small smile, leaning his forehead against the wall of the apartment, lacking the option of leaning it against Blake’s. “Just… Let me know, alright?” Mainly he means the progression of the case, but they are both equally aware of the unspoken _‘in case you change your mind’_ tagged at the end.

“Yeah, will do”, Blake says, sounding both grateful and calmer already. “Don’t wait up”, he adds jokingly, just to hear Jayden’s chuckled “Sure I won’t” before hanging up.


	30. Cold

Blake is pulled to wakefulness by the feeling of something twitching against him. Grumpily, he shifts a little, grumbling somewhat incoherently under his breath as he cracks his eyes open.

In the early morning gloom of the bedroom, he can just make out the shape of what might be a lump of a person, wrapped up in a generous helping of covers, before his mind catches up with him and he recognizes that it's Jayden – _obviously_ it's Jayden – back pressed against Blake's front while his whole body shivers.

"Norm?" Blake asks, lifting his head from the pillow to peer at his partner.

His answer is an unintelligible mumble, though the tone is a little high-pitched and _definitely_ miserable.

"Hey, hey, you okay?"

"'m fine", comes the slightly more coherent reply, though no less obviously miserable as the slender frame pressed against his is suddenly racked by a forceful full-body tremble, causing Jayden's teeth to clench together with an audible _clack_ and his muscles to seize up.

Immediately, Blake pushes himself up on an elbow, leaning over Jayden as his other arm wraps around the slim waist. "Holy fuck, Jayden, are you having a seizure?"

"Just...cold", Jayden manages, curling in on himself, body pulling into practically a fetal position. "So...so cold."

Blake sighs, most of his annoyance at being woken up so early seeping out of him at that, together with the gut-clenching worry that something is _seriously_ wrong with Jayden. "Withdrawal?" he asks, as the familiar smell of cold sweat finally registers in his mind.

"Mm-hmm", Jayden answers with a jerky nod against the pillow, voice sounding small and apologetic, as if he's hoping for the floor to open up and swallow him. Which he probably is.

"C'mere", Blake says gruffly, settling back on the bed and pulling Jayden's body flush against his own, arms wrapping tightly and securely around the shivering form. His hand sneaks under the blanket, finding its way to the sweat-clammy skin of Jayden's stomach where he proceeds to rub small, distracting circles with his thumb. For some abstract reason, it always seems to help. "I got you. Go to sleep."

Jayden's exhalation is shaky. "Thanks", he manages, before visibly relaxing, pressing gratefully back into Blake's chest as his breathing finally evens out into small snores.


	31. Red

Their first Valentine’s Day together is bit of a tricky business, neither of them _quite_ knowing how to approach it in relation to this thing that is between them now, a thing that so far neither has bothered to even give a name to.

So, as an unspoken rule, there are no grand and nauseatingly sweet love confessions or exchanging of gifts.

Breakfast that morning is a slightly awkward affair, both of them periodically glancing at the other, over the rim of a coffee cup or from behind the newspaper, while the silence in the room is loud enough to be a scream.

The awkwardness isn’t exactly alleviated by the way the people in the precinct keep aiming knowing, expectant and at times even distinctly exasperated looks at them all day. It makes an uncertain frown tug at the edges of Jayden’s expression the whole day, whereas Blake mostly just glares. It’s as if it was somehow their duty to act like ridiculous love-struck teenagers in front of everyone, just because of a date on a calendar.

It’s Jayden who finally speaks up during their late lunch break, another weighed gaze sliding over them as they sit at the break room table.

“Uhh, Blake? Are we…? Tonight, I mean… Should we…?” he starts, only to interrupt himself with a huff, gaze lowering to aim a scowl into his coffee, frustrated with his sudden inability to form proper sentences.

Blake lifts his eyes from his lunch to quirk an eyebrow at his partner. “What? Go out? Did you want to?”

Jayden shrugs. “I…don’t know. I hadn’t really thought of it, but…” He looks up from the coffee cup, eyes finally meeting Blake’s, “Yes, I guess?”

It’s phrased so carefully that Blake can’t help but roll his eyes, giving Jayden’s ankle a light bump under the table with his own foot. “You could’ve just asked if you wanted to, you idiot.”

Jayden gives an oddly sheepish look of his own, nudging his foot back against Blake’s in retaliation. “Was that not what I just did?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...these two fucking idiots, I s2g


	32. Drink

Jayden's mouth tastes of mulled wine and brandy and temptation and _warmth_ as Blake presses him, hard, against the restroom wall and hungrily licks into his mouth, the precinct Christmas party behind the door fading into an inconsequential hum in the back their minds, completely forgotten.

"Having fun yet?" Blake asks between nips to Jayden's bottom lip.

The younger agent hums into the kiss and Blake can feel the smile against his lips. There is a definite drunken edge to it, as well as to the words murmured into the nonexistent space between their mouths. "Mmm. I think I _definitely_ am now."


	33. Temptation

Blake is brought out of his cursory watching of the evening news by the sound of the bathroom door opening and the scent of warm steam wafting out before Jayden appears to stand in front of the couch, a little to his right.

“Did you manage to make the news tonight?” the agent asks, voice light and joking despite the jab as he stretches his arms up over his head and rolls his neck languidly, muscles relaxed from the hot shower.

“Not from what I can tell so far”, Blake starts to say, voice equally joking, before his eyes finally actually land on Jayden, an eyebrow lifting in amused question. “Is that _my_ bathrobe?”

A lazy grin curves Jayden’s mouth. “Excellent detective work, lieutenant”, he murmurs, low and more than a little dirty as he proceeds to climb up to straddle Blake’s lap, the bathrobe falling open and riding up enough to reveal pale thighs and the tiniest bit of a tantalizing view of the junction of his legs.

“You little minx”, Blake growls low in his throat, grabbing Jayden’s hips and pulling him tighter against his lap while simultaneously leaning up and capturing the agent’s mouth with his own. Jayden smells of soap and aftershave and the beginnings of arousal and it’s enough to make Blake’s head spin.

Jayden chuckles, a low rumble in his slim chest, before bracing himself with his hands on his partner’s shoulders and canting his hips, slowly rocking and rubbing himself against the hardness forming in Blake’s pants.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Norman”, Blake half-laughs, half-groans in a rush of breath, hands clenching into the curve of Jayden’s hip, undoubtedly leaving bruises.

“Not the version of Christ I’m interested in at the moment”, Jayden grins teasingly, though equally breathlessly as he presses a hungry, messy slide of tongue and lips against Blake’s mouth.


	34. View

”Hey! Tom, dude, check it out! It’s those cop guys that were at the campus!” a male student of maybe 18 whisper-yells at his friend while pointing his video camera at the afore-mentioned pair.

Another boy – apparently Tom – quickly joins his friend behind the scraggly hedge, also clutching a video camera in his hands, filming as he moves. “You think they’re Narcs?”

“Nah, man. I think the young guy at least is a Fed. Dunno about the older one.”

“Don’t mean they can’t be Narcs, Matt”, Tom hisses under his breath. “They’re here ‘cause of that dead freshman, right? Could’ve been because of drugs. How’s that for a Film Class project, eh?”

The other boy – Matt – scoffs, but quickly loses interest in the topic, eyebrow quirking up and a slightly stupid grin forming on the corner of his mouth as he watches the exchange between the two men. “Check ‘em out, though. Wanna bet there’s a little ‘office romance’ going on there?”

Tom begins to laugh and shake his head in a _‘REALLY, dude?’_ gesture, but it’s cut short as he lifts his eyes back to the pair. They _are_ standing _very_ close together, though apparently still talking about whatever case they’re working on, as the younger, slightly taller one is jotting something down in a notebook, face serious. But as they watch, the atmosphere between them shifts, the notebook quickly forgotten and discarded as the older, gruffer cop suddenly slides his hand into the younger agent’s hair, pulls him in and closes the distance between them with a slow, hungry, deep kiss. For a moment, they simply stay like that, kissing languidly, uncaring of who might see, the younger man clutching the lapels of his partner’s heavy outer coat while the older one’s hand – one that isn’t tangled in the other’s short brown hair – curves easily around the agent’s hip. Then, eventually, the younger pulls back just a breath and appears to say something through a chuckle, which earns him a light shove in the shoulder, though the older cop is wearing a crooked smile, too. After that they separate and start walking away, shoulder-to-shoulder, and damn if it isn’t hard to tell whether they’re holding hands or not.

“Whoa, _oookay_ ”, Tom lets out in a breath, eyes wide as he lowers his video camera. “You were saying about ‘office romance’?”

Matt’s laughter is slightly edgy. “Yyyeah. Okay, well. Probably not using that for my Film project.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, got inspired again, this time by an episode of "Supernatural". Oops?


	35. Talent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A completely self-indulgent "WHAT IF" scenario. Obviously not how it went in the game, more's the pity.

"That's him, over there in the VIP lounge", Jayden points out discreetly to Blake, the darkness of the club and the proximity of Blake's body to his hopefully hiding the small movement. "That's Paco."

"Uh-huh", Blake hums. "Ugly motherfucker, isn't he."

Jayden lets out a surprised snort of a laughter. "So. How do you want to play this?"

Blake's mouth curves downwards into a scowl as he considers the situation. "We need to get you to talk to him. Trick him into talking with that psychology jazz of yours."

" _'Jazz'_?" Jayden echoes, indignantly. "And why me? I thought you would've wanted to just bust in and drag—“

"You could try _that_ ", Blake heedlessly interrupts him, his scowl turning into a shit-eating grin. At Jayden's confused look, he tilts his head towards where a scantily-clad woman is being escorted from the dance floor to the VIP lounge by what is apparently one of Paco's bodyguards.

" _What?_ " Jayden practically squeaks, voice embarrassingly high-pitched. "Why would I—? Why would you even want me to—?”

"Gets you easily within talking distance, don't it?" Blake points out as if it should be obvious. The bastard is still wearing that smirk.

Jayden stares at him in stunned disbelief for a moment, his face darkening into an irked glower when it sinks in that his partner might, in fact, be serious.

"I'm _NOT_ going to strip out of my clothes and strut around like a prostitute for that guy!" the agent hisses furiously, pale eyes flashing in the lights of the club. "There has to be a better way to get the information out of him."

"If you've got one, do tell", Blake shrugs, but doesn't stop smiling. "Besides, would've figured you'd appreciate a plan that draws less attention."

"That's rich, coming from you", Jayden mutters, earning a derisive scoff from the older cop in reply.

"Well, mister Psychology Degree?" Blake asks after a while when the silence between them starts to stretch.

Jayden lets out a huff, glaring at nothing in particular for a moment, before speaking. His voice is almost petulant with defeat when he asks flatly, "How do we even know he's into men?"

Blake chuckles, nudging the younger agent to look towards the VIP lounge where the female from before has been replaced with a young man, sitting practically on Paco's lap.

" _Fuck_ ", Jayden curses emphatically, causing a deep rumble of an amused laughter to burst forth from his partner. Then, after a moment of helpless, indecisive inactivity, he starts pulling off his suit jacket in irate, jerky movements. "Just so you know", he adds in a hiss, pointedly avoiding eye contact, "I really fucking hate you right now."

"Yeah, yeah", Blake murmurs, his eyes following Jayden's movements in increasingly darkening hunger as the agent moves to roll up his dress shirt sleeves. His grin in downright wolfish. "C'mere", he says, voice low as he pulls Jayden close to remove his tie and undo an altogether larger amount of buttons than the younger agent is comfortable with, before mussing his hair into something resembling a sexy bed-head. "I'll be there to back you up before anything _untoward_ can happen."

Jayden glares daggers at him, although there is a definite undercurrent of insecurity there, too. "You goddamn well better be. You owe me _big time_ for this, Carter."

The Philadelphia cop only mock-salutes him with a wink, before turning him forcefully around and with a _supposedly_ encouraging pat on the ass, shoves him towards the VIP lounge. "Go get 'em, tiger".

Jayden somewhat childishly flips him a rude gesture before stalking off into the crowd.


	36. Silence

Sometimes, Jayden thinks, he should really take a look at himself. A really good, long, _hard_ look at choices he is making – especially recently.

He has never been an exhibitionist in any sense of the word, has never even thought of seeking – let alone _finding_ – thrill in things such as… _this_. Except, apparently, now, when he most definitely _is_ , and it’s becoming increasingly harder to stop.

Especially now, with Blake pressing him up against the wall of a bathroom stall, one hand supporting a thigh where it’s wrapped around Blake’s waist, the other working expertly between Jayden’s legs as the older detective thrusts urgently into his body. Jayden can hear ill-concealed cries and whimpers, increasing in frequency and volume as Blake hits him _just there_ , and belatedly he realizes that they are, in fact, coming from his own mouth. He would be mortified, if his blood hadn’t seemingly abandoned his head completely, rendering him incapable of caring about anything other than the tight coil of heat winding tighter and tighter low in his abdomen and that Blake keeps touching him just like this, _don’t stop don’t stop don’t—_

The keening sound starting to tear its way out of Jayden’s throat is interrupted by Blake’s hand suddenly covering his mouth, jolting him and cutting him short just as he’s about to—

“Shh”, Blake hisses, the sound barely audible even to Jayden even though they are only a hair’s breadth apart.

For a moment Jayden is confused, eyebrows drawing into an unimpressed frown, until Blake’s warning look grounds him just enough for him to hear the door to the men’s room close, shutting out the brief flow of the precinct’s noises into the restroom, followed by someone entering the stall next to them.

Jayden can feel his eyes widen in alarm before they roll briefly back into his head in agitation. He is _so close_ he is literally trembling with it, blood thrumming in his ears and between his legs, his mind nothing but a fog of _want_ and _need_ and _Jesus Christ, Carter_ -

He becomes aware of his own gasping, desperate breaths against Blake’s hand when the older cop gives him another warning look, although the hand on his thigh starts rubbing soothing, encouraging little movements against the skin there.

It hardly helps, and Jayden groans despite himself, the sound thankfully drowned out by the flushing of the toilet, followed by the blessed sound of the stall door opening and the faucet running briefly, before whoever it was exits the men’s room.

They are still as statues for exactly two seconds before Blake drops his hand with a shuddering chuckle and a harsh whisper of a “holy _fuck_ ”, freeing Jayden to let out the strangled moan he has been holding back, head thudding back against the stall door with a loud bang.

“Well, that was…” Blake huffs in an amused laugh, and for a moment Jayden is almost-laughing, too, in a strangled kind of way, before starting to squirm in the older cop’s hold.

“Blake, please…” Jayden is gasping in a desperate-sounding whisper, the laughter now gone. “I need you to… I’m… _please…_ ”

Blake lets out another chuckle, before something glints in his eyes, his pupils dilating as he hitches Jayden into a better position against the door, wringing another stuttering intake of breath from the agent. “Since you asked so nicely…” he grins.


	37. Fall

“Hey, Ash, take this little fucker off my hands, would you”, Blake calls as he drags a suspect, literally kicking and screaming, towards the police car his colleague is waiting by. “Guy’s pissing me off.”

“Don’t they all?” Ash cracks, lifting an acerbic eyebrow as he takes over pushing the guy into the car.

“Too damn right”, Blake scoffs, dusting his hands on his coat just as Jayden hauls his own suspect towards them, this one equally stupid and resisting.

“How’d it go?” the older detective asks, with an impressed quirk to his lips. For such a slight guy, Jayden is deceptively strong.

“My guy claims he’s on parole”, Jayden huffs, rolling his eyes in a gesture of _‘how much of an idiot does he think I am?’_

“Yeah? My guy’s just an asshole.”

“What else is new, then”, Jayden quips, a teasing twist to his lips as he shoves the suspect more or less unceremoniously toward the police car, to Ash’s waiting arms.

“Indeed”, Blake laughs. “Nice job on the guy, by the way.”

“Thanks”, Jayden grins, a half-fond, half-self-satisfied edge to it, shrugging as he turns to face Blake.

Drunk on the adrenaline, the air between turns heavy, before suddenly, without either quite knowing how it happened, they’re standing inexplicably _close_ , pushing into each other’s personal space, faces barely inches apart as they gravitate towards one another like corresponding halves of a magnet.

They are just about to lean in, lost to where and with who they are, when a voice suddenly breaks in.

“Guys. Hey! Time and a place, you two. Time and a place, and this ain’t it.”

“More’s the pity”, Blake shoots back at Ash, though his gaze is still focused on Jayden’s face, which from this minimal distance he can see slowly acquiring an attractive shade of abashed pink. “So hold that thought”, he winks at the agent, voice pitched low and suggestive even as he reaches out to give the slim hip a firm squeeze.

Ash can be heard giving a theatrical groan in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's a play a game of "spot the Lethal Weapon 3 reference"


	38. Dance

Jayden stands, leaning his back against the bar, the lights of the Blue Lagoon playing over his face as he contemplates his next move.

 _I need to find Paco_.

The music is _loud_ , every beat resonating distractingly deep in his belly, and just as he finds himself wishing he could get himself a drink – something _strong –_ he catches himself imagining a firm, familiar, rough hand sliding down along the curve of his spine, over the dip in his lower back and settling heavily on his behind. The feeling is vivid, almost like the real thing, made worse when he can practically hear the heated whisper of _‘fuck yeah, Jayden…’_ against the shell of his ear.

Suppressing a delicious shudder, hoping the flashing of the lights covers his suddenly flushed face, he shakes his head at his own imagination before pushing himself away from the bar and toward the reason why he is _really_ here.

It takes more focusing than it by any rights ought to.


	39. Formal

"Why do we need participate in this, again?" Blake grouses, his tone foul as he adjusts his bow tie for the umpteenth time in front of the foyer mirror.

"Because we're handsome and it's good PR?" comes Jayden's voice from down the corridor, light and decidedly amused. A second later, he appears in the foyer, fitting his arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket, such a dark charcoal it's almost black.

Blake's retort of _'bullshit'_ dies in his throat as he rakes his eyes over his partner’s tuxedo-clad form. Sure, he's seen Jayden in a suit before – in fact, the guy practically lives in them; must be an FBI thing – but god _damn_. The dark garment is so wonderfully form-fitted it practically licks his slim, yet finely muscled body. Blake feels something hot curl in his abdomen at the sight.

"Well, _you_ are", the older detective murmurs, crossing the space between them to crowd close to the agent.

"What, good PR?" Jayden quips playfully, though his voice drops noticeably lower at their proximity.

 _'Smartass'_ , Blake's quirk of an eyebrow says. "Handsome, you idiot", he corrects with an obliging twist of his mouth, despite being fully aware that Jayden knew exactly what he meant. "Although", he adds, voice going husky and suggestive, hands coming up to toy meaningfully with Jayden's bow tie, stealthily starting to undo it as he talks, "nice as this tux is, I _think_ I'd much rather see it on the bedroom floor."

Jayden's breath hitches at that and his eyes darken, pupils growing large even as he lifts his own hands in an effort to still his partner's insistently wandering ones. "No, Blake. We _can't_. We need to be at the— No. No, no, no, wait, stop, don't you da— _ah, Jesus Christ, Carter_ ", his litany of protests is interrupted by Blake _somehow_ managing to slip a hand past the buttons of his dress shirt, teasingly brushing a nipple, at the same time as a firm thigh is pressed insistently between his legs, rubbing against his crotch.

"You were saying?" Blake's voice taunts infuriatingly at his ear, making him shiver.

" _Fuck_ ", is all the younger agent manages in defeat before clutching at the lapels of Blake's suit jacket, rumpling the fabric in his desperate fists and helplessly grinding himself against his leg.


	40. Fever

Jayden's breaths are helpless little whimpers, puffed in warm clouds of moisture and heat against the skin of Blake's neck as he attempts to calm himself, to settle down from the mind-blowing high his body has just been taken to. Distantly, he is aware of Blake pulling out of his body, and he groans at the loss despite himself. It earns him an equally breathless, rough-around-the-edges laugh that skitters pleasantly down his spine like warm water.

"Alright, you leech. Let go, you're giving me a cramp."

Jayden huffs an airy laugh of his own in return, reluctantly and more than a little stiffly starting to untangle his legs from where they're wrapped tightly around Blake's waist. Using his somewhat shaky hold on the broad shoulders, he starts to right himself on the kitchen counter, where he was somewhat roughly positioned not all that many minutes ago, ready to slide down when something catches his attention.

Something is off, different from usual with the counter top. He is sitting on something uncomfortable, something that keeps shifting inconveniently with his movements. Now that he has the brain capacity – or at least a smidgeon more of it – to think about it, he _can_ recall noticing it already, before, but at the time could hardly be bothered to find enough coherence to care. Now, though? He definitely notices, the rough surface of whatever it is chafing almost painfully against his bare behind.

"What the...?" he mutters, twisting to look down, under himself.

"What?" Blake asks, eyebrow raised in amused interest at his partner’s antics as he puts his clothing back together.

"Your counter top is trying to give me carpet burns", Jayden complains, mock-plaintive, although Blake can easily recognize the dry humour in his tone.

The Philadelphia detective scoffs, moving to retrieve the object from under him. "You agent types, so fucking high maintenance. Or is your ass just special? Lift."

"You tell me, _Carter_ ", Jayden shoots back, a suggestive look on his still-flushed face, even as he does as ordered, lifting his buttock enough for Blake to pull out whatever it was he had been sitting on.

It turns out to be something round, maybe half an inch thick, appearing to be made out of cork. Blake aims Jayden a look that the agent can clearly read as ' _really, Norm?_ ** _This_** _is what has your undies in such a bunch?_ ', before examining it disinterestedly. Suddenly, he bursts out laughing, loud and hard.

"You know what I just fucked you on?" he asks in completely unchecked amusement. At Jayden's confused frown, he turns the cork disc around, and Jayden finally recognizes it as a pot coaster. With the text 'PLACE HOT STUFF HERE' printed on it in bold letters.

The sound that escapes Jayden's throat is strangled and sounds a little like he's choking.

"Well..." he manages intelligently, feeling a slightly hysterical grin starting to twitch at the corners of his mouth as he glances at Blake.

"Indeed", the older cop chuckles. "So stop bitching, I was only following instructions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even kidding, my sister an I found a pot coaster like this in a store! And promptly dissolved in a fit a giggles, obviously, because we are ADULTS.


	41. Highway

“So where the hell is your skinny ass?” Blake’s voice grouses through the line at the end of their conversation, causing Jayden to laugh through a yawn.

“Careful, someone might think you’re eager to see me”, he teases.

“Fuck you, _Norman_. So where are you?”

“About an hour out still”, Jayden answers, leaning against the hood of his car at the rest stop somewhere between Washington and Philadelphia, watching the sunrise colour the sky in hues of pink while he sips at his hot drink. “Had to stop for a coffee.”

“What the hell for?”

“What the hell do you think for?” Jayden quips, but the smile is clear in his voice despite his words. “I’m driving up there at the crack of dawn just for your stimulating company, I’m tired, and god knows you won’t let me get any sleep while I’m there.”

Blake lets out a gruff chuckle. “Damn right I won’t. So stop loitering and hurry your ass up here so I can show you just how _stimulating_ my company can be.”

Jayden’s laugh is slightly breathless in answer and he’s back behind the wheel before the call is properly even over.


	42. Coffee

Jayden eyes the capsule coffee machine sitting on Blake's kitchen counter warily, his hands fisting and unclenching uselessly in indecisiveness at his sides.

"It ain't gonna bite you, you know", Blake points out half-derisively from where he's suddenly leaning against the door jamb, clad in a bathrobe, his hair still wet from the shower. His appearance makes Jayden jump a little. "Or, don't tell me? There's actually a piece of technology your smart ass can't operate?"

 _'Ha ha'_ , says the look Jayden shoots at his partner as he crosses his arms defiantly over his chest and keeps a glare aimed at the machine from the corner of his eyes. "I can operate it just fine. It's the taste I'm unsure of."

" _Seriously_ , Jayden? Coffee's coffee."

Jayden shifts his accusing glare to Blake this time. "Not at the precinct, it's not. For that _stuff_ to be even called coffee is downright insulting. I've never tasted anything so _vile_."

Blake laughs, the sound genuinely amused, if not a tiniest bit deprecating, his shoulders shaking with it as he says, "Your spoiled ass just doesn't know how to pick 'em."

"I picked _just fine_ ", Jayden all but snaps, aware that his tone is bordering on petulant but beyond caring at this point. He just wants his morning coffee – _needs_ it for his brain to kick properly back into its logical gear. "But that thing—!"

"Yes, yes, college boy, blame it on the technology", Blake quips, pushing past Jayden into the kitchen, purposefully brushing their shoulders against each other briefly. Without further ado, he pulls out two cups from the cabinet and selects a capsule for each of them. From his vantage point, Jayden can't see which flavour was chosen, but when a moment later a steaming cup is pushed into his hands, the odour wafting up from it is certainly... _nice_.

Carefully, mindful of scalding his mouth, he takes a sip, his gaze immediately shooting up to where Blake is enjoying his own cup. Their gazes locking over the rims of the mugs, the expression in Jayden's eyes turns sheepish as he's forced admit, "It's...good."

"That must've hurt", Blake grins into his own coffee.

"Asshole", Jayden retorts, warming both of his hands around the cup as he takes another, bolder sip this time. "The tar back at the precinct is still vile, though."

"We'll see", is all Blake says, still grinning, before pushing away from the kitchen counter he had been leaning against and moving back towards the bedroom, presumably to start getting dressed. His shoulder bumps purposefully against Jayden's again. "So never let it be said I don't do anything for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have not made Jayden try the coffee machine in the police station, you are seriously missing out on some COMEDY GOLD!


	43. Doors

Jayden has a somewhat surprising, and admittedly amusing, tendency to slam doors when he gets _really_ upset about something. Blake first got a demonstration of this habit during the Origami Killer case, and especially during a certain interrogation involving Ethan Mars – only he’d somehow assumed that the frankly somewhat immature behaviour was linked to the massive amount of stress they’d all been under at the time. But to his surprise, the habit has persisted, leading to doors at home and especially at the precinct getting periodically abused when Jayden gets sufficiently frustrated.

Unfortunately – at least if you were to ask Jayden himself – the door to the agent’s broom closet of an office rarely seems willing to cooperate with that, instead bouncing on its hinges in a way that only seems to aggravate Jayden more. Frankly, Blake is surprised the poor object hasn’t turned into swing door yet.

Today is, again, one such an incident, Jayden stalking after Blake into the office after a particularly trying press conference, the tenuous calm the agent has been fighting to maintain slipping away in one fell swoop with a muttered curse and an angry effort at slamming the door. Of course it fails, the door ricocheting right back and almost hitting Jayden in the face.

With an amusedly resigned sigh – why Jayden still even tries is completely beyond him – Blake shakes his head and walks up the agent, grabbing him by shoulders to spin him around and slam him back-first into the door, pinning him there.

“Need some help with that?” he all but growls against Jayden’s ear, pressing their bodies tightly together, thigh slotted neatly between the agent’s. Before Jayden has a chance to reply with anything other than a slightly dazed half-laugh, Blake is covering his mouth with his own in a hungry, demanding kiss, silencing what ever retort Jayden might have been about to make.

Their combined weight effectively keeps the door firmly shut.


	44. Secret

Jayden's groan hitches into a high-pitched whine, just barely suppressed by biting at his lower lip. His short nails claw desperately for purchase on the smooth surface of his desk as he braces his upper body on his elbows over it. "Carter, I... Wait, we... _Fuck_ ", he tries, but his words keep dissolving into incoherence as Blake's slick fingers move inside him, searching, stretching, _torturing_.

"What was that, _Norman_?" Blake, the infuriating bastard, asks with a teasing calm from where he's positioned behind Jayden, between his spread, bare legs.

Jayden's first reply is another ill-concealed whimper, before after several steadying gulps of air he manages, "We shouldn't... Not here. Not on my— _oh Christ!_ " His words stumble, and he's belatedly biting his fist into his mouth to muffle the keening sounds he's trying so hard not to make. "Not on... Not on my desk, when it's...right against the wall. Everyone on the other side will...!"

He hears Blake chuckle behind him, obviously amused by his embarrassingly incoherent attempt at stringing words together.

"Well, mister Psychology Degree, whose smart idea was it to place their desk against that wall in the first place?" the older cop quips in a velvet-rough voice as he pulls his fingers out, which earns a low cry of protest from Jayden despite himself.

"Wasn't expecting to...make use of it this way..." Jayden gasps, pushing himself back against Blake in a desperate search for contact.

Blake chuckles low at the words, draping himself over Jayden's still-clothed back. "Better practice being quiet, then", he whispers against the shell of the agent's ear, before thrusting in hard, making Jayden let out a long wail of a moan, the desk banging against the wall with their movements. "Oh yeah, lots and _lots_ of practice needed, seems to me."

"You're such...an asshole, Carter", Jayden grits out between gasps. He's going to have a hell of time facing everyone after this, because _no way in hell_ is there any way for _anyone_ to mistake these sounds for anything other than what they are.


	45. Snow

It is one of the first few days of snow in Philadelphia that year, the fall of the flakes steady but not yet exactly a blizzard. The streets are covered with soft, slightly wet snow that sticks to the bottoms of their shoes and clings to the ends of their pant legs as they walk around the crime scene.

Jayden is talking to an eyewitness, putting his goddamn psychology degree to hopefully good use, as Blake studies the clues left on the scene a few meters away, although more often than not he finds his attention absent-mindedly straying back to the agent, eyes running over his form.

There is snow gathered in large clumps on his jacket, covering more of his shoulders by the second, the white against the dark of the fabric a stark contrast. The slight wind makes the snowflakes in the air dance, causing them to catch in Jayden's hair, dotting it with white, as yet others briefly cling to his eyelashes before being brushed hastily away. The agent's cheeks are coloured with a chilled rosy shade from the cold, making his face look alive and healthy even as his breath hangs in the air and he huddles the slightest bit into his shoulders to stay warmer.

For a nauseating second, the word that springs first to the forefront of Blake's mind is... _cute._

Scoffing, the detective shakes his head gruffly at himself, although there is a fond sort of grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

Out of the corner of his eye Jayden can see Blake hanging some distance away, apparently studying the scene. He sees Blake crouch down, examine the snow on the ground, touch his fingers to it as if he's found something interesting. His attention, however, is pulled away as the woman he is interviewing starts talking again, apparently remembering some other detail of the incident she'd witnessed.

"I see", he starts to say, "so you saw them—“

He is suddenly and crudely interrupted by the wet, hard slap of a snowball hitting him squarely to the side of the face.

"What the—!" he exclaims, his hand flying up to cover the smarting skin as he whirls to the direction the projectile came from – only to come face-to-face with Blake, still crouched down and wearing the most shit-eating grin ever known to man.

"Carter, what the fuck?" he demands, trying to pry the quickly melting remains of the snowball from inside the collar of his jacket, the eye-witness standing next to him completely forgotten even as her eyes dart hilariously between the two of them.

"What?" Blake asks, the palms of his hands turned up in a completely ridiculous mock-display of innocence. "Got a problem, _Norman_?"

"An asshole of a partner?" Jayden fires back, bending down and scooping a haphazard clump of snow in his hand and flinging it at the older cop in a rare display of childishness.

Blake only laughs, before pulling himself up again and turning to walk away. "Please excuse my partner, Ma'am, they don't teach manners in the FBI."

He can't quite help the guffaw of a chuckle bubbling up from his chest at the indignantly strangled sound presumably coming from Jayden before another wet mess of a half-assed snowball smacks him in the back.


	46. Ugly

“Hey”, Blake asks once, out of the blue, as they’re lying in bed together, “how’d you get this?”

At Jayden’s questioning look, he takes a light hold of the agent’s jaw to tilt his face towards himself, the pad of his thumb running over the scar on the right cheek. The mark is still slightly raised, now a stark contrast on Jayden’s flushed skin.

For a moment Jayden’s simply stares in half-stunned silence, before a tight frown tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I got it while working.”

Blake scoffs lightly at that. “If you work all your cases the way you did the Origami Killer one, I’m not surprised.”

The quirk on Jayden’s lips is just strained and slightly forced enough to be noticeable. “I suppose”, he aims for a chuckle.

“Hey”, Blake says suddenly, in an uncharacteristic show of concern as he shifts closer to the agent. “Tell me. You know you can.”

Jayden’s aims a grateful little smile at his partner, though the edges of it are clearly agitated. “I’d rather n—“ he starts, then suddenly interrupts himself with a stubborn-sounding sigh, lifting his hands to rub at his eyes.

“It was a knife”, he says plainly, rolling onto his back to stare determinately at the ceiling instead of looking at Blake. The fingers of one of his hands start to absent-mindedly run over the scar as he talks. “I had a gun on the guy, but I didn’t want to outright shoot him…“

Blake doesn’t say anything, doesn’t scoff, but his lips quirk just enough for Jayden to read the thought of _‘now where have I seen THAT before?’_ on his face. It makes him aim a narrow-eyed look at the older cop, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“I tried to talk to him, but he came at me. He moved so fast, I’ve never seen a person move like that. Before I could react, he was in my face.”

Jayden shrugs airily and more than a little sarcastically at himself, eyes back to not looking at Blake as his fingers smooth over the raised flesh.

“Thankfully my partner was there to take the shot. He got the suspect and I got this.”

Blake shakes his head in disbelief, in turn rolling back to his side of his bed with a huffy laugh. “So correct me if I got this wrong, but…you got sliced in the face because you were stupid, and learned absolutely nothing from it?”

Jayden’s face is a mask of incredulity as he stares at his partner for a moment, mouth slowly opening and closing a few times as his brain scrambles to work around the remark. “”You can tell me anything”? _Really_ , Carter? Which line did you stand in when they were handing out sympathy?”

“I’m just sayin’”, Blake chuckles. “A certain Nathaniel Williams questioning could’ve gone a lot differently…”

Jayden moves to elbow Blake in the ribs, only to have his arm captured by the older cop’s lightning-quick reflexes and used as leverage to pull him flush into Blake’s arms. “Last time I’m telling you anything”, he grumbles into the space between their mouths before Blake closes even that, pressing a kiss to the scar before sealing their lips together.


	47. Water

“And what is the point of this again?”

“It’s a hot spring, Blake”, Jayden points out more-or-less patiently as he lowers himself down into the warm water next to the older cop, a content sigh escaping his lips.

“And?” Blake asks, decidedly _less_ patiently, sounding unconvinced.

“It’s like a bath, but better”, Jayden says simply, his quirked eyebrows giving Blake a clear look of _‘really, I have to explain THIS to you?’._ “You really haven’t travelled much, have you?”

“What’s that got to do with it?” Blake grouches.

“Never mind. Just saying”, Jayden chuckles, shaking his head to stop himself from pursuing that line of thought further. He really doesn’t want to argue with Blake over this – it had taken enough convincing to get the older cop to travel out with him as it was. “Look, Blake, just… Just enjoy it, okay?”

“Uh-huh”, Blake huffs, _still_ sounding unconvinced, but settling down next to Jayden nonetheless, their shoulders brushing comfortably as they sit in silence for a while.

It doesn’t take long, however, for Blake’s hand to find its way to Jayden’s thigh under the water and begin to smooth its way up and down along it, coming a little high and closer to Jayden’s crotch every time.

“ _Carter_ ”, Jayden speaks up without opening his eyes. His tone is relaxed and slightly drowsy, but carries a clear warning nonetheless. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying myself”, Blake answers matter-of-factly, his hand just lightly skirting the junction where Jayden’s hip and thigh meet.

“I don’t think…” Jayden starts, his words dissolving into a sigh despite himself as his body arches disobediently into the touch, and for a moment, Blake can’t quite tell whether the flush working its way up Jayden’s chest and neck is from the warmth of the water or something else entirely. “I don’t think sex is allowed here.”

“Ask me if I give a shit”, Blake grins, devil-may-care, before dipping his hand deftly between Jayden’s legs while covering the agent’s mouth with his own in a hungry kiss.

 

And if they happen to get thrown out of the _onsen_ , well… Blake would argue it was entirely worth it.


	48. Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Suicide Baby' chapter actually made interesting.

The young woman they’ve just pulled out of the bathtub, drugged and bleeding, suddenly bolts upright on the bed as Blake is trying to bandage her cut wrists. “My baby! I have to take care of my baby!”

Jayden can _see_ the amount of effort it takes for Blake to not chew the mother out right there and then, but the words _‘you should’ve fucking thought of that before trying to off yourself, you fucking imbecile’_ are clear as day in the dark scowl he shoots at her. Jayden has to admit, he is inclined to agree on this instance.

Instead of letting her up, though, Blake puts a firm hand on her shoulder and pushes perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary to make her lie down again. “You’re staying right here until the paramedics arrive. My partner will see to your kid.”

Jayden’s eyes snap instantly to Blake’s in alarm. Suddenly the wails echoing from the living room sound very loud and very, _very_ intimidating. “Wait, I…am?” he stammers.

Blake cocks an eyebrow at him. It looks almost like a dare. “Yes. You _are_.”

There is pathetically poorly disguised murder in the glare Jayden shoots at Blake, warring with _‘I hate you’_ and _‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me’_ , before he turns to stalk down the hallway. “Leave it to me”, he directs at the mother, aiming for calm and reassuring, but only managing to sound strangled.

“Do you know what to do? With a baby, I mean?” she calls to his back before he can exit the room, making him cringe and falter in his steps.

“Well…” he starts, but is cut off by Blake.

“He’s an FBI agent, there’s nothing he can’t do.”

Turning his head so fast he almost gets a whiplash, Jayden turns to scowl at his partner, wanting to punch that aggravating shit-eating grin he should not even be surprised to see right off Blake’s face, regardless of who’s watching.

“Leave it to me, ma’am”, he only repeats through gritted teeth, starting down the hallway again as Blake’s chuckle rolls infuriatingly over him, followed by the mother’s call of “her name is Emily”.

 

Jayden approaches the pram and the screaming, flailing tangle of tiny fists and legs as if it was an armed and dangerous suspect about to jump him from the slightest wrong move. For a moment he merely stands next to it, staring in helpless inaction as his stomach alternates between lurching and twisting itself in uncomfortable knots.

_Jesus Christ, just do it, she’s not going bite you._

“Okay. Okay. Uhh. Hi?” he says intelligently down at the crying bundle, before reaching tentatively down into the pram and gathering it in his arms.

“Alright, alright”, he mumbles, more for what he hopes is a comforting noise than the actual words. “I know, I’m not your mother, but…try and make do, okay?”

The baby – Emily, his mind corrects – lets out a confused-sounding hiccup of a noise, but at least seems to calm down a fraction.

“Right, okay, here we go”, he continues talking, fixing the awkward held-at-an-arm’s-length position he’s been holding Emily with to something hopefully comfortable, nestling her against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

“At least you don’t smell. That’s good, wouldn’t know how to fix that.” His voice is low but light, cracking a joke at his own expense even though he’s fully aware Emily is probably incapable of understanding it. The tone seems to help, though, as her crying practically ceases, so he counts that as a victory.

That still leaves him with the problem of not exactly having a wealth of topics to use for a one-sided conversation with a few-month-old baby. For a few moments he simply bounces her gently against his shoulder, pacing slowly back and forth for added motion – and feeling like an utter idiot for it the whole time – until Emily apparently grows tired of the silence and starts whimpering again.

 _Shit_ , Jayden mentally curses, shifting his hold on her, increasing the bouncing motion of his steps slightly and doing the only thing he can think of in the split-second before the whimpers turn into new wails: he starts to hum.

The song is nonsensical, just broken fragments of possibly-lullabies he doesn’t even really recall from his own childhood, before eventually gradually morphing into what he _thinks_ is… an old rock classic?

Amazingly, it seems to work, as within moments the noises Emily is making shift from upset to softly snoring breaths against the skin of his neck, and Jayden lets out a ridiculously relieved breath and silently thanks whatever deities he can think of off the top of his head, while continuing to hum the only part of the song he can remember over and over again. He’s not about to fuck this up now by stopping too early.

Belatedly, he becomes aware of Blake standing silently in the doorway, shoulder leaning against the frame and a grin that Jayden can’t quite decipher on his face as he gazes at the pair.

“Well look at you, Mr. Maternal Instinct”, the lieutenant quips, voice such a low whisper Jayden can barely hear it.

“ _Fuck you_ ”, he mouths back, the rocking motion stilling almost completely as Blake moves into the room and wraps his arms around Jayden’s waist from behind, pressing the agent firmly against his chest.

“Don’t you start wanting one”, Jayden warns, the hushed sound whispered practically into Blake’s mouth as he cranes his head back enough to seek the older detective’s lips with his own.

“No worries”, Blake chuckles, licking at the seam of Jayden’s lips to deepen the kiss momentarily. “Though maybe I should be saying that to you, with skills like that.”

“Not on your life, Carter. Not. On. Your. Life.”


	49. Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake is playing "Fatal Frame", by the way.

“Holy fuck! Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck!” Blake swears, voice growing in volume with each word, making Jayden’s face morph into a long-suffering scowl where the agent is sitting next to him on the couch.

“Blake…” he starts, only to be overridden by Blake continuing to fill the air with muttered curses.

“Oh no, you fuckers, I don’t think so, you can’t— what the hell, how am I supposed to— fuck that, I ain’t going that way!”

Jayden rolls his eyes, although there is a fondly amused edge to the purse of his lips. “Blake”, he starts again, leaning back on the couch just fast enough to avoid an elbow to the eye as Blake suddenly jerks the controller viciously, “you do know it’s just a game, right?”

“What that fuck…” Blake mutters, and for a moment Jayden isn’t sure whether it’s directed at him or the ghosts chasing Blake’s character on-screen, before the older cop shoots a quick glare at him as if he is stupid. “Of course I know it’s a game, Jayden. Doesn’t mean that it…”

For a few seconds his attention shifts back to the game, the air filled again with a couple of curses and quick, sharp intakes of breath, and Jayden can’t quite control the grin taking over his face at his partner’s reactions. “Well done”, he quips.

“Fuck off, _Norman_ ”, Blake grouses, wiping the palms of his apparently sweaty hands on his slacks as he turns to aim a disgruntled look at the agent. “I don’t know what the hell you’re grinning about. This crap doesn’t scare you at all?”

Jayden only shrugs, his grin never wavering. “Not really. It’s just a game, Blake. It’s not real, or even very realistically done. The ghosts aren’t real. The character isn’t really me. None of it can actually hurt me.”

It’s Blake’s turn to roll his eyes before turning his attention back to the game. “Trust you to fucking rationalize the shit out of a horror game.”

Jayden lets out a scoff of a laugh at that, their shoulder lightly touching as he settles back to watch Blake progress in the game.

He has to admit, though, he can see how it might be scary or suspenseful to some: the environments _are_ dark and threatening and the sounds somewhat unsettling. Yet, he still can’t quite grasp how—

Suddenly, completely unexpectedly and without warning, some _thing_ jumps at the screen, accompanied by a loud upsurge in the music and a blood-curling scream. Caught entirely off-guard, Jayden’s whole body jerks violently and a loud, alarmed yelp escapes his lips, the – thankfully empty – coffee cup in his hands tumbling from his grasp to his lap and onto the floor as he reaches blindly for something to hold onto. Next to him, Blake practically scrambles off the couch, turning the air blue with a stream of curses.

Pausing the game, they both stare at the screen for a few long seconds, the only sound filling the room coming from their ragged breaths.

“Motherf—“ Blake mutters at the game, letting loose a shaky laugh, before turning a cocky grin at Jayden, complete with a raised eyebrow, as if he’s just proven a point. “Not real, huh? Doesn’t scare you at all, Mr. Rationale?”

Jayden’s answer is a defensive glare. “That was— I didn’t— I wasn’t _scared_! I was _startled_! There’s a difference, Carter!” He is fully and painfully aware of the downright pouty tone of his voice, but can’t quite help it in the face of Blake’s teasing look.

“Right, right”, Blake, the asshole that he is, nods in mock-understanding. Then, before un-pausing the game, he tosses a decorative pillow playfully at Jayden’s lap. “Here. Might want to hold on to that from now on, just in case.”

“Asshole”, Jayden grumbles, childishly smacking Blake in the face with the pillow, before clutching it in his arms anyway.


	50. Blur

When it came to things either of them was looking forward to on the drive up from Washington, getting viciously snowed in definitely wasn’t on the top of the list. It’s been a good hour since Blake’s had any kind of decent visibility worth speaking of, and at this point he’s just tired and irritated enough not to want to risk trying to stay on the road anymore. The fact that it’s pitch-black beyond the constant barrage of white isn’t exactly helping, either.

“Hey”, he says gruffly, elbowing Jayden who has dozed off in the passenger seat to wake him up.

The young agent blinks blearily awake, for a moment so obviously confused as to where the hell he is and why that Blake is extremely hard-pressed not to apply the word _adorable_ to him. “Blake?” he asks as his eyes slowly focus, voice and accent thick around the edges with lingering sleep.

“We’re stopping here. Can’t drive any further unless we wanna end up in a ditch.”

“Oh”, Jayden says eloquently as a way of a reply, as if he quite doesn’t know what to do with that information. “Where’s _here_?”

Blake only shrugs, a slight scowl to his expression. “Fuck if I can tell. Just pulled to the side of the road.”

“Oh”, Jayden says again, huddling deeper into the overcoat he’s had spread over himself as a makeshift blanket. Now that the car, and thereby the heating, is turned off, the temperature inside is starting to steadily drop.

“Cold?” Blake asks, perhaps somewhat redundantly. Jayden, for some reason, is always cold – it happens so easily that Blake wonders if one of the many beatings the agent has lived through hasn’t knocked his internal temperature regulating system completely loose somehow.

Jayden lifts his shoulders in a minute shrug. “It’s not too bad.” _Yet_ , they both hear the unvoiced word tagged at the end.

“Right. Let’s go, then”, Blake says, moving to maneuver himself to the back seat and motioning for Jayden to join him. “Before you actually _do_ freeze your ass off.”

Jayden rolls his eyes tiredly, but clambers to the back seat anyway, overcoat still draped over himself.

“C’mere”, Blake beckons, helping the agent to settle down into his lap, their chests pressed together for shared body heat and Jayden’s over coat wrapped over them both for warmth.

Jayden quirks an eyebrow at the position, an indulgent smirk playing on his lips. “Sharing body heat, eh?” he asks, wiggling purposefully against Blake with the pretense of snuggling closer.

“Hey, I like your ass better without the extra icicles.” Blake punctuates his point by sliding his hands down Jayden’s back and over his buttocks, cupping the flesh firmly.

Jayden’s reply is an airy, slightly breathless chuckle as he presses himself shamelessly back into the touch, hips undulating in small motions as he begins to rock against Blake.

“I see you’re beginning to warm up, then”, the older lieutenant grins.

 

In the morning, they are both stiff and sore from the cramped space of the back seat and the car windows have been fogged up enough to cause them to ice up from the _inside_ as well as the outside, but at least coldness wasn’t the issue.


	51. Torn

“Was that your first time?”

Jayden is pulled out of his pensive thoughts by the sound of Blake’s voice coming from the driver’s seat next to him, his mind skittering to a halt at the words.

“Sorry?” he stammers. He hopes the way his cheeks feel suddenly hot isn’t visible to Blake, because _fuck_ , what the hell kind of question is that to ask someone, after…

“First time you killed somebody?” Blake clarifies, and… oh. _Oh._

Jayden suddenly feels like five kinds of an idiot, his cheeks flushing even more as he realizes what Blake meant, or more importantly, what he _hadn’t_ meant.

“You get used to it”, Blake is saying, and Jayden tries to look like he’s been on the same page the entire time, like he hadn’t assumed his partner was talking about… about…

Apparently he fails rather miserably, because Blake’s words slowly still and he pins Jayden with _a look_ , eyebrow cocked knowingly.

“What, exactly, did you think I was referring to?” Blake asks, amusement in his tone as he turns to glance at the backseat of his car, where not all that long ago… Jayden swallows. He’d been upset after Nathaniel and feeling hurt and perhaps a little fragile, and somehow things had…well, _escalated_.

“That, huh?” the older detective continues, a grin on his lips – and wait, is that smugness in his voice? – before lifting his eyebrows provocatively in what might be surprise. “Whoa, hang on. Was _that_ your first time?”

“ _What?_ ” Jayden finally finds his voice, although to be fair, it does come out a little more high-pitched than he’d intended. “What, no! Blake, just – no!”

“No?” Blake asks, grinning broadly now, all teeth, as he fixes Jayden with teasing gaze. “You sure about that?”

Jayden fights the urge to flip the other cop off, instead hunkering down further into his seat, as if it would swallow him and save him from this mortifying situation. Thankfully Korda chooses that exact moment to appear, giving Jayden the opportunity and excuse to extricate himself from the conversation with a mumbled “that’s him”. Not that expects Blake to let this go anytime soon, the bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should not be shown things like this:  
> TV Tropes: _"Blake to Jayden: "Was that your first time?" He was referring to if Jayden shoots Nathaniel, but when taken out of context..."_  
>  I should not.


	52. Attention

Jayden lets out a pained hiss, his foot jerking in Blake’s hold as if to pull away from the fingers pressing painfully into the instep.

“Jesus, Norm”, Blake grounds out, rolling his eyes as he grabs a firmer hold on the agent’s foot to keep it from escaping as he resumes massaging it. “Is there a part of your body that _hasn’t_ been battered to shit?”

“I don’t know”, Jayden answers through clenched teeth, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes – one of which is starting to gain an unattractive shade of purple around it – and leaning his head back against the armrest and determinately pressing his back into the couch to stop himself from bolting away from the pain. “Probably not.” It certainly feels that way.

A disgruntled frown tugs at the corner of Blake’s mouth as he runs his eyes over Jayden, stretched out on his back on the couch, feet on Blake’s lap. Clad in only his boxer briefs and an undershirt, practically every cut and bruise on his body is visible – and there are _a lot_.

“You fucking idiot”, the older cop grumbles, moving his hands from the soles of Jayden’s feet and up his calf, the applied pressure causing Jayden to hiss again and the muscles under his fingers to clench, before reaching up to cup a knee almost gently. There is an ugly blotch of a bruise there, too, and Blake circles his thumb around it lightly. “You need to stop pulling stunts like this. What the fuck did you think you were doing, going to those places alone, _without back-up_? How many times did that almost end with your stupid ass getting killed?”

The touch, along with Blake’s voice, is worried and practically _reverent_ enough for Jayden to pry his hands away from his eyes and lift his head enough to aim a half-surprised, half-apologetic look at his partner.

“Sorry”, he says quietly, his accent thickening around the edges with his tiredness and the pain. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”


	53. Mad

When Blake manages to make it to the elevator just in time, causing the doors to shudder back with an almost annoyed-sounding creak to avoid squashing him, Jayden pointedly looks away, directing his glare at the exact opposite wall. He’s had _enough_. Blake is hard enough to work with at the best of times; when things spiral out of control like this – and really, there isn’t any other way to describe what had just transpired – he is just about ready to go back on his ‘keep a calm and logical mind’ mentality and start pointing a gun himself. Only he knows exactly who his gun would be pointed at, and it would not be their suspect or witness or possible source of information. Oh no.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jayden”, Blake starts to say in an irritated scoff, leaning against the wall of the elevator not nearly far away from him as Jayden would like.

“What?” Jayden snaps, whirling around to aim a glare that’s one part upset, one part fed-up and all parts livid at his so-called partner, though still maintaining as much distance between them as possible, keeping his own body pressed into the corner of the elevator. “Huh, Carter? _What?_ ”

Blake’s eyes on him are equally stormy. “What the fuck was that back there? The hell did you think you were doing, interf—“

“What was _I_ doing?” Jayden echoes, eyebrows lifting in indignation. “Fuck, look in the mirror, Blake! I wasn’t the one beating the guy—“

“I was getting answers from him!”

Jayden scoffs. “Yeah? Would hate to see you _not_ getting answers, then. Because that? About the furthest away from answers as you can get.”

“And whose fault is that?” Blake practically booms over him. “Of course he wasn’t talking, with you overstepping like that! Jesus Christ, you’re supposed to work _with_ me, not _against_ me, Norman! The next time you decide to undermine me like that, you little shit, I swear to God…” As he’s talking, he takes two threatening steps forward, easily closing the distance between them.

Squaring his shoulders and hitching his chin up, Jayden stands his ground, even if his back is now pressed tightly, almost ominously against the elevator wall. He would have nowhere to go, even if he decided he wanted to back down.

“I should report you just for that.”

“Just you fucking try it”, Blake growls back at him, raising his arms on either side of Jayden’s head, boxing him in the corner and leaning in close. “I dare you.”

“Back off, Carter”, Jayden tells him, low and dark, although the command of his tone is slightly lessened by the hitch in his breath and the involuntary shudder his body gives. He would cross his arms over his chest, both as a sign that he’s serious and as a protective barrier between himself and the older cop, if there was room. But now, Blake is standing too close, effectively locking his arms to his sides. Jayden would hazard a guess that Blake is well aware of this, his proximity deliberate. _Asshole._

“Or what, _Norman_?” Blake is asking in an equally dark tone, leaning closer still, his body now a hair’s breadth away from Jayden’s. “Gonna spit some more acid at me, like back up at the suspect’s?”

“Fuck you”, Jayden retorts, squirming a little despite himself in the cage of Blake’s arms. It infuriates him that even though he has at least an inch on Blake in height, in situations like these it hardly seems to matter. Somehow the detective still always has the upper hand.

“Eloquent, Jayden”, Blake mocks him, his chuckle low and rumbling against Jayden’s chest where they are suddenly pressed together, and the agent couldn’t say when or how exactly _that_ happened. All he knows is that it resonates infuriatingly through his nervous system, his traitorous body reacting by shortening his breath and raising goose bumps all over his skin.

“Blake—“ he starts to say, meaning it as a warning, but hating the breathy way it comes out, the effect completely ruined.

“Tell you what”, Blake all but hums, face suddenly pressed into his cheek, his voice like gravel right next to his ear. “How about – “ and here he shoves the rest of the way in, crushing their bodies together against the wall and pushing a thigh forcefully between Jayden’s, right up against him “ – ’fuck you’ instead.”

Jayden should fight this, he knows he should. He should not give into Blake this easily, but all that he comes up with are a surprised, pained grunt and a groan of undeniable arousal as his body rocks back into the contact of its own accord.

“You’re…an ass, Carter”, he manages breathlessly, eyes screwing shut and hands coming up to grip Blake’s shoulders, fingers curling hard enough to probably bruise.


	54. Wash

“Uhh, Blake…?” Jayden’s voice echoes down the hall from the bathroom, the uncertain way he stretches the vowels communicating his obvious confusion.

“What?” the older lieutenant grumbles into his coffee.

“ _Really_ need you to come here for a sec…”

“What’s the matter, FBI?” Blake fires back, but pulls himself to his feet and ambles towards the bathroom nonetheless. “Can’t handle a bit of laundry?”

Jayden doesn’t say anything, but as Blake stops at the bathroom door, leaning against the frame, he finds the younger agent standing there, next to a pile of laundry, one hand on his hip as the other holds up a sky blue item of clothing, accompanied by a raised eyebrow that manages to be both wry, amused and baffled at the same time.

For a moment the two men just stare at each other, until Blake cocks an eyebrow of his own at the agent. “And? What seems to be the issue here?”

With a wordless shake of his head, Jayden folds open the item, revealing it to be a pair boxer briefs, blue with the familiar Superman logo and the words ‘MAN OF STEEL’ printed on the front.

“Yeah?”

“ _Really_ , Carter?” Jayden deadpans, finally seeming to find his voice. “How…? I mean, what…? Do I even want to know?”

Blake only chuckles. “Well. It’s not a lie”, he shrugs self-confidently, before giving his partner a somewhat dirty look. “Obviously. As you well know. So I don’t know what you’re acting so surprised over?”

Jayden makes a odd sputtering kind of noise, flinging the boxers in childishly irate kind of retaliation at Blake’s face. “Only you, Carter…” he mutters, shaking his head, before deftly catching the item again as Blake throws it nonchalantly back at him and exits the room, still grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister is again to blame for this, she showed me the boxer briefs in question!


	55. God

_Wow_ , is the first thought stuttering into Jayden’s mind, the laughter from Blake’s frankly lame quip of “call the cops” dying on his lips as he stops dead in the entrance to Nathaniel’s apartment.

_That’s…a lot of crucifixes._

“Seems like Nathaniel is a pretty religious guy”, his words echo his thoughts intelligently before he has a chance to filter them.

Predictably, Blake scoffs, and launches into an irate explanation of Anti-Christs and religious delusions and how much just _crazy_ Nathaniel is.

Jayden would laugh at the admittedly apt idea of Blake actually being the Anti-Christ, if he wasn’t so busy being disappointed at how obviously Nathaniel is _not_ the Origami Killer. Either way, a small amused snort of a laugh does bubble up past his lips, earning a glared “what the hell is so funny?” from Blake where the older cop passes the bathroom Jayden is perusing on his way down the hall.

“Well, you know… Guy might not be as crazy as you take him for, if he’s that capable of seeing right through you”, Jayden quips, sticking his head out of the doorway to aim a provocative wink at this partner.

Blake stares at him for a moment, before jabbing a supposedly-warning finger in his direction. “Hey, watch it, Jayden.”

“Just sayin’”, Jayden chuckles, shrugging playfully, completely unaffected by the threat Blake is apparently trying to direct at him, before disappearing back into the bathroom.


	56. Naked

The weak morning light finds them still curled in bed, contently asleep. The alarm is turned off, neither having to work today. Jayden is spooned against Blake’s chest, despite the slight awkwardness due to their height difference, snuggled so close that their bodies are pressed together all the way from head to toe, their legs lazily tangled together in the sheets. Blake’s arms is slung comfortably over Jayden’s waist, hand pressed against the flat plane of his stomach, rising and falling in time with the agent’s steady breaths.

Eventually Jayden stirs first, the pattering of rain against the window pulling him awake – but only barely. Just enough for the rhythm of his breathing to change minutely, and without even opening his eyes, he shifts slightly in the embrace of Blake’s arms, trying to get even more comfortable.

The movement jostles Blake enough for him to rouse, too, but he only exhales a sleepy sigh into Jayden’s hair, shifting just a little to accommodate the agent before wrapping his arm even tighter around his waist, keeping him still. Without saying a word, eyes still closed, he presses a kiss behind Jayden’s ear, a wordless instruction to go back to sleep.

Jayden lets out a drowsy mumble of a content hum at that, a brief flicker of a smile on his lips as he covers Blake’s hand with his own and laces their fingers over his stomach, before drifting off again.


End file.
